#like the guy who verbally abuses his mother is calling me an awful person

[wild-wombytch]

I learned from "Punk Santa", the punk who gave me the CDs today -and who happened to have known my father- that someone I knew died last week. I'm not taking it really well.

(under the cut because it's a long vent of many many messy thoughts and also tw moid, you don't have to read about men, and tw child abuse and death)

It's fucked up because I'm aware I'm likely idolising him and that maybe if I saw him again before he died I would now find him as awful as the next man...but he was oddly extremely dear and important to me, because he was the one normal and not creepy adult I had when I grew up. By being normal he was the anomaly of my world. The one kind man I ever knew growing up, way before my middle-school teachers. He saw me with my curly hair and patiently listened to me enthusiastically talk about insects and horses and videogames for hours, asking questions and stuff, joking, encouraging me to express my views and emotions, explaining things to me wisely, defending me when my father belittled me and made me cry and scolding drunk other guests who would have inappropriate vocabulary or discussions around me. He was younger than my parents but much more responsible and caring than my father ever was. He was Yugoslav. The man born in a country that didn't exist anymore. He had six younger sisters he raised with his single mother. He was into drugs and shits but that's why he never had a partner that I ever heard of, because he said he knew he was a walking problem and his life sucked and didn't want to drag someone into this. He never said he was feminist like all these libfem men, he just respected women. Or at least he seemed so to me as a little girl who grew up with the worse examples of men around, including men pissing with the toilet door open. Even my mother said she wished she saw him again and that he was a green flag. One of my doggo who died two months before my father was the baby of his dog. I remember playing with her pups in the backyard of this man. I was the one who taught them how to respond to whistling.

One day, to cheer me up after some verbal abuse from my father that made me cry, I don't remember the exact context, but he said jokingly he'd marry me (in a very non-creepy way, that wasn't serious at all). I believe it was after some shit my father told me about being so gross or temperamental as a person that nobody would ever want me or some shit (when I was like. Five).

We stopped seeing him after he called out my father on his bullshits in my and my mother's defence, because my father likely "blacklisted" him from his circles then. We never really knew the whole story. Maybe it was also sickening to him to be powerless about the situation my mother and I were in. He was genuinely sorry for us.

I don't know. I missed him. I've been thinking about him this year and for months I was frantically searching for him, asking every gutter punk about him, asking an acquaintance if by any chance the guy with the same name he mention could be him...I really believed it was a question of time before our paths crossed again. I dreamt about him and me going to a travel together 2-3 weeks ago, with him listening to my enthusiastic talk about horses and being happy to catch up after I was confronted with weird monsters...I never dreamt about him before. I should've known.

It's hurting maybe more than losing a family member in a way. Apparently he was sick or something like that and didn't go get treatment. He died alone. Not long after his dog, who birthed the one I had. I don't even know this man's family name. His exact age. His birthday.

I feel sick. It's not my fault or responsibility, yet I can't help but wonder...what if I met "Punk Santa" three weeks ago? He knew about this man, he could've told me where he lived. I could've seen him one last time. Maybe kick his ass to go to the hospital. Maybe he wouldn't have died. He was at most in his early fifty. He had so many years before him. I can't believe it was his time yet. I missed him by one week and now I'll never see him again. I quite literally do not care about anyone who was around me when I grew up, if they die painfully (except "Punk Santa", grandpa's cool), in all honesty, they probably deserve it, but this man...I don't know if it's because I'm not in a great place psychologically but it's really messing me up. My actual self doesn't feel much connection with my past self due to the severe depersonalisation, derealisation and ptsd I experience, so I'm numb, but when I think of the little girl who is still somewhere inside of me, she's absolutely devastated and heartbroken and suddenly I can't stop crying. And there is this obvious fracture inside of me where all of these emotions mix up and are so hard to identify and deal with. It's unfair. Of all those awful men, he was the one who least deserved it.

I don't know why, but I needed to see him again. My soul needed it. One week...it's cruel. Very cruel. What even happened there? I can't stop thinking about this man and the little girl inside of me. Caring and looking out for each others and failing. It's like a tragedy from a fictional story except it's real.

I don't know, maybe I'm too sappy and probably cringe right now...I'm a big mess. It's like another bridge to my past violently collapsed and with it a pillar that saw my construction as a person.

And I'm hurt that I was invited to exactly one wedding in my whole life, yet I buried almost all the people I ever cared about. My maternal grandparents when I was four and six. My maternal great uncle when I was 14. My father when I was newly 19. My favourite paternal uncle a few months later. My dog who's been with me since I was 6-7. Now this kind man.

Now I just have two uncles, my mother, my paternal grandmother who I die to see but can't due to lack of transportation. Two brothers who don't care about me despite how much I try to heal our relationships, fucked by our father. Aside from my brothers, my left family is aging fast and badly and won't stay around for long. When they're gone, I'm alone. Completely, utterly alone. And homeless. But mostly alone.

I live with death. I die more everyday I live. I see it as fair and transformative, usually. I'm not afraid if it. Sometimes I seek it. Sometimes I feel less alone in its arms. I look at it in the eyes and accept it as a part of nature. Raw, indiscriminate, merciful. I don't see it as cruel, except this one time. This was unfair. Why?

And I'm tired. It's like trying and failing to wash again and again a cloth that keeps getting bloodied like the kannerez noz. My infinite task that I'm trapped with is grieving others and swallowing the pain. It hurts that I know more of death than joy. It hurts that I simply know that my life won't be super awful but also won't ever know major joys. I'll just keep burying people. Put band aids emotionally. Move on. Wait and see who's next. I'll continue reading the death records carefully every time I open a newspaper. Sometimes I'll recognise a name vaguely and wonder who it was to me. Sometimes it will be strangers and I will imagine their lives based on the informations.

...I don't even know what happened to the body of that man. I hope his sisters took care of it well. I wish I could've attended the funeral if there was one. Maybe it would've helped. But right now...it's awful.

#Tañ ha Gerioù #tw death #tw moid #tw child abuse #tw negativity #vent post

[donnerpartyofone]

One time when I should have been talking about how much my dead mother hated me or something, I stupidly mentioned to my therapist that someone said something annoying on one of my tumblr posts, and she went after me about what did I expect to get out of social media. She wasn't being sarcastic or hostile, she just kept asking me what were my expectations of publicly posting dearly held beliefs and opinions, or personal experiences; she asked me every time she was unsatisfied (it seemed) with my answer, and eventually we just changed the subject. I kept trying to guess if she had a specific right answer in mind; like, was she implying that I was secretly fixing for a fight, or masochistically putting myself in harm's way? Or was she trying to get me to admit that I was desperate for attention and compliments and I was just looking for them in the wrong places? I seemed to have a hard time explaining that I just love to write, that it doesn't bother me if only the same 4-5 people respond in any way, or if no one responds, and that being pestered and annoyed periodically (that is, not very often at all) is a risk I'm willing to take, but I still reserve the right to be annoyed. I'm only human, or something.

I started using tumblr toward the end of the awful abusive relationship that ate up my 20s. The guy was a crazed narcissist whose only motivation in life was impressing other people, or upsetting other people--anything that forced others to think about him and reflect back to him his personal power. He didn't do anything just because he enjoyed it, so it was very hard--actually impossible for me to describe to him the internal satisfaction I got out of writing and accumulating images for free on a free website. He didn't have the wiring necessary to understand that it was part creative process, part introspection, and part getting to know the world in a certain way. He kept asking me, "What do you GET for using tumblr? But what do YOU GET? BUT WHAT DO YOU GET?" while getting redder and angrier until we just had to stop talking about it. I eventually realized he wanted me to say, like, you get corporate sponsors. You get free shit. You get a book deal. You get famous. You get rich, people fuck you. He couldn't imagine any other reason for doing anything and he was as pissed off about the fact that I just enjoyed something, more or less privately, as he was about anything else about me.

The truth is I don't know what my expectations are. I think I know why I write, at least in part: I'm trying to be understood. I have felt misunderstood for most of my life (yes I know boo hoo), and I think that if I just keep refining and refining and refining the way I articulate microscopic experiences, then eventually it will become impossible for me to be misunderstood ever again. I became an art history major in college more or less by accident because I had no direction in life, and while it turned out that I had no particular talent for the discipline of art history (I graduated with a B- thesis that was called "a grand failure"), I learned a lot about how to verbalize extremely interior and abstract experiences, like that of perceiving art and trying to process its meaning. I usually use this for film now, my main love, which is so much about collaging sensory input to achieve a certain psychic effect, and less importantly about literal, literary-type content.

But who do I want to understand me? Very few people read my writing, will ever read it. And I have learned the hard way that you really cannot force anyone to understand you no matter how skilled you become at saying things or maintaining a paper trail; people just don't listen very well, they project, they twist the conversation into something they WANT it to mean instead of what it does mean, or very often people just want to have fights and they will refuse to hear anything that might resolve the exciting conflict they're having with you. I have had incredibly infuriating arguments about the meaning of individual common words that couldn't even be resolved with the help of a dictionary or sample sentences. Being a good writer or speaker (or listener, even) does not protect you from this.

I think that to a large degree I am trying to make myself understood to myself. I have always been very, very good at internalizing the voices of others, and this can make me doubt the content and quality of my own experiences. Against the influence of people who have disbelieved or ignored me, or tried to get me to believe things I know to be untrue, I write and write and write to submit my findings to an invisible judge and jury. They are all me. It may sound as if I am trying to prove what I believe is David Cronenberg's point about identifying with the body, or trying to debunk what I think Catherine Breillat is saying about human emotion, but secretly I am trying to prove to myself, through these incidental demonstrations of skill and rationale, that I do deserve to feel the way that I feel about the things of which I can no longer speak.

#long post

[harbingerofsoup]

my dad: you, someone who forgets to say good morning, and has a fundamental lack of understanding of polite speech, forgot to wish you mom a happy mother’s day. you’re an awful person despite complimenting her today, and being nice and respectful to her regardless of the date.

me: *has repeatedly had to comfort and defend my grandmother, his own mom, after he yells, belittles, and insults her* holy shit how does he not know???

#the lack of self reflection this man does is outstanding #i had to stop myself from laughing when he was scolding me #like the guy who verbally abuses his mother is calling me an awful person #sure bro #im actually nice to my mom so maybe sit down and shut up

[mmvalentine]

The Pianist pt 5 | Jurdan

Modern AU. Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 6

Jude was angry.

Jude was embarrassed, actually, but the anger felt better. Jude had so much anger it carried her all the way home and up to her apartment, where she threw down her bag and scrubbed her make up off aggressively. Then she changed her clothes, put on entirely different make up, and stalked back out. She went to a bar where she knew they had an open mic event on at this time every Friday night, and shoved her way to the top of the list. Then she sat on a bar stool, shook her hair out, and sang 'Killing Me Softly' until half of her drunken audience were in tears.

The thing was, for years, Jude had demurred and said that she was only an okay singer and just did it for the love of it. Said that it was a sweet way to honour her mother's memory, and a good a reason as any to struggle along in a New York City apartment she could barely afford. Said the busking was a way to keep herself out of trouble and earn a few extra dollars beside. Said it didn't matter that neither her father or step mother never gave a shit about her music.

But the truth was, she was fucking good and she knew it. She felt like you weren't supposed to say that about yourself, so when Locke had told heaped praise on her, it had just felt so validating that she had gone along with his little project. Sure she thought plays were kinda dumb, and she had never liked Locke or any of that group. But they had that Juilliard shine to them, and Locke had put so much effort into convincing her over the week, that she didn't feel like she could say no.

Felt like maybe, just maybe, this was the time that someone might actually hear her and know that she could sing.

What she hadn't anticipated was that her voice would not be enough, that she would be replaced by some magazine cover model and not only would no one actually see her or know who she was, but that it was laughable that that might ever happen.

And so Jude walked out of the theatre and into a pub and picked up the validation a different way. Made people cry into their beer, sang a handful of other songs she knew and only when the lights went down and she handed the microphone to the next performer did the anger leave her and by the time she got back home she was empty.

Jude kicked off her shoes by the door, lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. And when the silence finally licked at her bones, she let herself cry.

The knock at the door was both unexpected and unwelcome. Jude did not answer at first.

"Jude. Jude let me in."

"No."

"Jude. I'm sorry. I didn't know that's what Locke was planning."

"I don't believe you."

"I stole a really expensive and old bottle of scotch from Locke's place and brought it here.

Jude paused. And then let Cardan in.

One might think that Jude's previous experience with alcohol from Locke's house would make this a less appealing proposition but actually the drink helped. She and Cardan passed the bottle between them, while Cardan told her stories about how dumb his friends were.

"One time," Cardan said, "Valerian was off his face, and was hitting on this girl on a balcony. She said no, and he got so offended that he tried to tell her off. Stood up, leaned toward her, and nearly fell clean off the side of the building."

"Good," Jude said.

"Nicasia once pretended to drown so that this hot lifeguard would come save her, but instead she got hauled out by this enormous woman with amazing lungs, and then when they got to shore Nicasia was so verbally abusive that she got banned from that beach."

Jude cackled. "That's my new favourite holiday destination."

"And Locke... okay don't tell anyone I told you this, but his last play was so bad, that his father paid people to sit in the audience so that he didn't feel like his show was a flop."

Jude lay her head down on Cardan's knee. "These are the best bed time stories I have ever heard," she said. He took the bottle from her hand, and put it down beside them.

"Are you falling asleep, Jude?" Cardan asked her.

"No," said Jude, and closed her eyes.

"It's okay if you do."

"Tell me another story."

Cardan was quiet. Jude breathed in and out, and thought it strange that of all people, it was Cardan who was here with her in the aftermath of her humiliation. She'd have thought he would enjoy it but actually, he was being... nice. It was weird.

"Do you want to hear the best bedtime story I ever heard?" Cardan whispered.

"Sure," Jude replied, but truth be told, she didn't need it. She was fast falling asleep in Cardan's lap.

He began to hum, then and Jude knew she had already started dreaming because she knew that tune, and that was impossible. Still, it was not an unpleasant dream. It was just that he was singing her own lullaby back to her.

///////

"That was kinda fucked man," Cardan said to Locke. Locke rolled his eyes.

"Not you too. You know I'm not gonna put a waitress on stage. There are people watching."

"Jude's amazing."

"Sure. She's great. But she doesn't look the part, and I have a reputation to uphold. Why are we even discussing this, Cardan? I said I wanted your musical ear, not your opinion on every little thing I do."

Cardan opened his mouth to argue, and then found there was just no point.

"Alright, Locke. Do whatever you want. You guys... you guys kinda just suck, you know that?"

And he left Locke in the theatre.

Over the following weeks, Cardan didn't talk to any of them. Not Locke, not Valerian. Nicasia tried to call once or twice, but he didn't feel like talking to her. It was like he couldn't remember whether he had actually ever liked them, or if they were just the people his parents had told him to associate with. And that thought made him sick to his stomach.

And then some scandal blew up at school where Valerian had snuck into some girl's room and tried to assault her, and that was it. Locke and Valerian were just dead to him after that.

Nicasia... well he had genuinely loved her, at one point. Or at least as much as sixteen year olds could feel genuine love. But he didn't like the person she had become.

So, okay, then what? He stopped going to the diner, stopped going to the parties, stopped talking to his awful friends. And now all that was left was empty space and silence and he remembered why he hadn't done this before. Cardan supposed that he should make new friends, but the prospect made him want to pull his hair out. He hated people.

So he took himself off to school, not wanting to just haunt his apartment, and worked on his piece for the showcase.

And while he did, he thought there was just one person he still wanted to be around. If she would have him. If she didn't hate his guts altogether.

****

I'm sorry not much is happening here, I'm trying to move and it's a bit hectic over here!!

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST:@asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish @story-scribbler @thebonecarver

#jurdan #jurdan fic #tfota #mine

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 11 first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Goodness)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Okay! This episode is a real slice of healthy family dynamics, not triggering in any way. [Uh if this is your first Restless Rewatch: that is sarcasm, dear readers]

Goodbye to You, Goodbye to Everything We Knew

Nie Huaisang asks why Meng Yao has to leave and Meng Yao says "I killed a guy without permission, so your brother fired me." 

Ha ha ha ha no he doesn't. But he does give Nie Huaisang a sweet, sad smile; he seems touched by NHS's distress. 

Meng Yao carefully removes Nie Huaisang's hands from his shoulders and bows to him, wordlessly signaling the change in their relationship from intimate friends to formal strangers, while Nie Huaisang looks crushed. 

They will return to intimate friendship in the future, but falsely. Meng Yao believes that truly loving a person can include destroying their family and using them as an instrument in your murder plots as long as you don't directly harm them.  Nie Huaisang eventually learns to use people just as brutally, but he doesn't lie to himself about what he's doing. This farewell may be the last harmless moment between these friends. 

Jiang Cheng is distressed by what's going on, while Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and watches, fully in Sherlock Holmes mode, instead of his more usual concerned-for-my-friend mode. This may signal mistrust of Meng Yao, who refused his initial attempt at friendship, and not in a sexy, slice-your-face-off way.  Or it may mean that he's reserving judgement on a complicated family situation. He maintains his uncharacteristic reserve through the entire encounter. 

(more behind the cut!)

Nie Huaisang runs in and asks his brother WTF happened. Nie Mingjue says "he killed my subordinate without permission, when he knows perfectly well power must flow from the ruler; it's like he didn't even read that Foucault book I gave him."

Ha ha ha actually he just yells at his brother, as if NHS doesn’t have his own relationship with Meng Yao after being wonder twink powers with him for probably a couple of years now. NHS has to sit and process his loss and confusion in silence.

As a younger sibling who would make friends with my older siblings' girlfriends and then lose those friends if they broke up, for reasons having nothing to do with why I liked their girlfriends, I super feel Nie Huaisang's pain here.

OTOH, older siblings are entitled to have break ups and not explain themselves to anyone besides their lover because that's the nature of intimacy. The moral is, uhh...don't have a family curse that makes you unreasonably angry. 

Jiang Cheng steps up to advocate for Meng Yao, because Meng Yao is injured, and because Jiang Cheng is actually a born leader who knows better than to throw away a useful subordinate. For example, even when Wei Wuxian is at his drunkest and most defiant, Jiang Cheng tries to reform him, not kick him out, only drawing the line at having unpopular zombie friends.

Wei Wuxian continues to keep his mouth shut, waiting for Nie Mingjue to calm down, and speaking only about the tactical situation. He clearly knows there's more to this story but he's pretty good at keeping his head down in a family ruckus, and we're about to learn why.

Yunmeng Town

The Yunmeng bros go home to Lotus Pier, where they are greeted in town with bows, smiles, and free stuff.

We've mostly been seeing them in their roles within the cultivation community, where Jiang Cheng is grumpy and anxious, and Wei Wuxian is sassy and iconoclastic. Here among common people, they are both charming, friendly, and polite, like the imaginary good kind of gentry.

They hear the news from a local lotus seller that the small clans are coming to the Jiang Clan for shelter, but that otherwise everything's ok, which doesn't sound like everything is ok at all. He gives Wei Wuxian a giant bag of lotuses for his sister to make soup from.

Home to Lotus Pier

All the disciples practicing in the courtyard at Lotus Pier are excited to see them, and one girl goes running to tell Jiang Yanli. Thanks to the admittedly beautiful design of Lotus Pier, she is running for a long time.

A long, long time. Getting around on all these insane walkways must be a real drag if you're not the flying sort of cultivator.

Discipline and Punish

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian immediately go and kneel while they wait for their official punishment. Jiang Cheng is kinda worried about the punishment and Wei Wuxian is like, I'm good at being punished, just let me do it. 

Much later, and for a really long fucking time

He also tries to get Jiang Cheng to stop being mad, even giving him skritches while he says they should be brothers after they die.

Which they will, as it happens, although Jiang Cheng after the Wen torture is only mostly golden-core dead, while WWX dies for real.

When Jiang Fengmian shows up Jiang Cheng starts to explain that they were with Lan Wangji, but Wei Wuxian hushes him; he is still keeping the secret of the Yin Iron. Although he's keeping it in exactly the manner that a teenager keeps their weed stash secret: immediately tell literally every teen friend about it, but keep it extra secret from everybody's parents. 

Happy Families Are All Alike

Now we get to meet Yu Ziyuan, who is generally styled Madame Yu but who I'm going to call by her name just as if she was a male character. More on that concept in a minute. She rolls up looking, smelling, feeling like a million yuan, with her two murder bitches in tow.

Her marriage is an unhappy one, and her husband does his best to avoid her and avoid conflict, lying to the kids that she's tired and then sending her away later with the same line about being tired, which is a particularly gendered kind of gaslighting. She is obviously not tired, other than being tired of Jiang Fengmian's shit.

I'm not going to say she's the worst mother ever, because parenthood in a feudal society entails a wide range of skills, many of which she has in abundance. She starts off with a relatively tender greeting to Jiang Cheng, tuning up his always-amazing sartorial style, which is exactly like her own. They are all ready for the mommy & me fashion show.

That said, she dishes out hellacious verbal abuse to everyone in her family. She targets each one in turn, making Wei Wuxian the focus of most of her ire, but without ever directly speaking to him. He is not, in her view, part of her family. 

The Stages of Family Dinner

1. Try to fix it and defuse the situation

2. Yeah no

3. Just keep your head down and be glad it’s not your turn in the hot seat

This family meal hammers home how much Wei Wuxian is not, actually, part of the family. Jiang Fengmian adopted him into the clan, and told A-Cheng and A-Yi to treat him as a sibling, but he didn't give him the Jiang name, and he didn't get his wife's approval. He also doesn’t expect him to dress like any other clan member, apparently. 

Compare this to how Lan Wangji, actual good parent, fully integrates his own adopted son into his clan and family, starting with giving him the Lan surname.  

The hits just keep coming as she goes after Jiang Cheng for being less gifted than Wei Wuxian, Yanli for performing labor for Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Fengmian for possibly begetting Wei Wuxian.

On first watching this scene I took her question "Is this how you raise someone else's son?" to mean that she thought Jiang Fengmian was being too nice to a kid who was actually an outsider, taking resources away from the real kids. But on rewatching, it's pretty clear that she's saying his favoring Wei Wuxian is evidence that Wei Wuxian is NOT someone else's son; that he's Jiang Fengmian's bastard. 

Jiang Fengmian doesn't say a thing to this, or to her mentioning WWX’s mother. This shit is why WWX is running around in the world desperate for any crumb of info he can get about his Mom; he hears about her all the goddamn time at home, but only as insults to her character.  

A Bitch is Not Wrong

Here's the thing, though; a lot of what Yu Ziyuan says is correct. 

Jiang Fengmian should be a lot more concerned about the danger to the children, and should not leave it up to the kids to decide who's going to bear that danger.

Yanli does a lot of food=love, which is ok in the right doses, but causes her to pretty extremely lose face during the whole "soup for Jin Zixuan" debacle. And her doting on Wei Wuxian is...kinda excessive. I mean, yeah, she’s more like a mom than a sister to him, but still. Running out onto an active battlefield to look for him, frex, will be a skosh too much. 

I have a dictionary too, mom

Jiang Cheng, as the future clan leader, shouldn't let his attachments affect his decision making, and should let Wei Wuxian, who's the superior cultivator, fend for himself more often. We love Jiang Cheng for those moments where he puts himself in harm's way to protect his loved ones, but it's not a good strategy. He constantly yells at Wei Wuxian for the exact same thing he does all the time himself; he just limits who he does it for.

After she roasts the shit out of everyone for these failings, she leaves, and everyone sits around being miserable and not talking about what just happened. 

Not to be gender studies-y on main but: the awful things she says to her children are really not very different from the things that Jiang Cheng says to Jin Ling, although her targeting is more adept. JC also says a lot of mean things to WWX when he’s angry. When a man says cruel or insulting things, it's often presented as real love hidden under a rough exterior. When a woman does it, she's a monster.

If you enjoy this sort of interaction you should definitely have a look at Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf and the plays of Eugene O'Neill.

Road Runner

Oh thank god, moving on

Lan Wangji is headed back to Cloud Recesses, and gets ambushed by the roadside with the most ridiculous trap this side of Wile E. Coyote.

Wen Chao thinks the "rug over a hole" trap is a good idea for someone who can literally fly.

Lan Wangji doesn't faff about with sword riding, he just fucking goes up in the air and stays there until he is good goddamn ready to come down. A hole in the sidewalk is really not going to be a problem for him. 

Wen Zhuliu does get in one kick before Lan Wanji yeets backwards away from him, in a moment that's scarier on rewatching, now that I know what Wen Zhuliu is capable of.

Wen Chao talks some smack to Lan Wangji, hilariously complaining about "your patronizing tone" to a man who has literally never spoken a word to him, IIRC, and certainly isn't speaking now. Maybe it's a mistranslation and should be "attitude," or maybe Wen Chao is just that dumb.

Apparently Wei Wuxian made a stack of talismans for Lan Wangji to take on the road with him. This talisman is a twin to the one Lan Wangji brings out way, way later in Yunping, when Wei Wuxian says "you even have kept it until now." Missing scene alert! What else did he make for him?

In Yunping this talisman is used to distract some random harmless street bullies. Here it is used against a seven-man murder squad.

This works.

Assault on Cloud Recesses

Forgettable disciple #1, Su She, comes rushing in to tell Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen that Cloud Recesses is under attack.

I'm pretty sure these dudes already know it, because they are meditating extra hard with a buttload of incense, and Lan Qiren is about to cough up some blood. So I think they're trying to hold the ward, rather than just, like, chilling while their disciples get stabbed.

Cloud Recesses is super on fire, you guys; it's going to totally burn to the ground; look at that conflagration, oh the humanity, etc.

Lan Qiren Rises to the Occasion

Ok, I like to rag on Failmaster Qiren and he is definitely an authoritarian dick a whole lot of the time, but in this scene he is fucking amazing.

He starts off worrying about Lan Wangji, not just out of affection but out of strategic planning, probably in equal parts. All three of these Lans take their clan responsibilities extremely seriously.

Then he calmly assesses the situation while imperturbable Lan Xichen freaks the fuck out. 

Lan Xichen is right to be alarmed, because he knows his uncle, he knows one of them is likely to die, and he knows that Lan Qiren will choose to take the hit.

I love, love, love Lan Qiren's physicality here; how centered and assured he is, as he holds his nephew steady and explains what is required of both of them.

Lan Xichen knows Lan Qiren is right. He is utterly fucking devastated, and all he can do to show his love...

...is to obey. 

This whole scene just. kills me.

Su She and forgettable disciple #2 are in the room for this whole conversation, and they join Lan Xichen in this deep bow. Note: I will be reminding everyone of this fact in Part 2.

Whew. This episode is a LOT. Part 2 Coming Soon!

Writing Prompt: What other goodies did Wei Wuxian put in Lan Wangji's care package before Lan Wangji hit the road without saying goodbye?

Soundtrack: 1. Michelle Branch, Goodbye to You 2. Ludacris, Stand Up

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[statticscribbles]

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Summary: Sweet Pea/Reader Request: reader was sexually assaulted by a friend of hers, & she distances herself from the friends, because they tell her that she’s lying & she opens up to sweet pea, maybe he comforts her? I just could use some comfort even in the form of sweet pea TW: Sexual Assault, Gaslighting, Verbal Abuse, Abusive Relationships/Friendships -Thoughts-  ~flashback~

You’re not sure what you were expecting when you’d gathered your friends at your usual hang out spot. You no longer shook at his presence but you weren’t expecting him to show up. Still you’d told them you had something important to say; with him there, his hand around your best friends waist had you shutting down. “Y/N, come onnnnnn you drag us all out here in the middle of the night for what? Is it about what happened at that party again? You know  Lance didn’t actually do anything, it was a dream is all.” -They were friends with him first, why would they believe you. Of course you were lying.- “I’m moving.” You shrug a little; not surprised when their faces don’t crumble. You’d barely been spending time with them after the party, after the incident as they’d called it. “When?” Lance tilts his head leering at you as he always seems to do now. “Three days.” “Where?” You shake your head.

“Close by apparently, job transfers and all.” You nod, they understand two of then had moved to the other side of town because of their parents getting job transfers. –Might as well lie about this, they think you’re lying about everything- Your parents hadn’t had any problem buying the trailer for you. They seemed relieved, being able to send you out of town to get away from your nightmares, your whining, -your lies- You’d discussed it with them, and they’d given you an ultimatum when you’d come home.

~~~You’re trying to sneak through your back window, of course your parents are awake, and of course Lance had called them saying how drunk you were, how high you’d gotten at the party. They don’t bother asking what happened, launching into a tirade about how irresponsible you are, how childish and immature. How you’re destroying any chance of a future for yourself. Your father spouts off about expecting you to end up knocked up from one of ‘these parties’. Your mother take a gentler approach compared to him. “How about this, there’s a nice covenant in Riverdale and-“ “I’ll go, but not to the sisters.” Your mother’s surprised at your agreement, your father beams. “We can get you one of those trailers, in that trailer park, we’ll pay for it, just keep your grades up. Three days to pack what you want.” He leaves after that, your mother does as well, you can hear them moving in their room and as you walk upstairs, head swimming and heart racing you catch yourself in the mirror. –Doesn’t even look like anything happened, just that you fell, you really did just get drunk and dreamed the whole thing up- You wake up the next morning, looking back in the mirror, you can’t help but cry, you’re shaking and dry heaving occasionally looking back into the mirror to catalogue the bruises and imprints he left against your skin. You decide about telling your friend, grabbing your first box and starting to pack your books.~~~

It’d taken you four days to move everything over and settle yourself in the trailer your parents had gotten; it’s in the back of the lot, barely still in the trailer park. You avoid any of your neighbors, trying your best to not panic as you make your way towards Riverdale High. You’re keeping your eyes on the floor. –They’re looking at you cause they know what you’ve done. You’re that liar that got thrown out from Centerville.- You cringe at your internal monologue, trying your best to shake it off, freezing when you crash into someone. “ You okay?” You look up, brushing yourself off and nodding, not looking at whomever you bummed into. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s no problem, where are you trying to find?” You look up into the boy’s face, hoping you’re not blushing, or if you are you can brush it off as the embarrassment from the fall. “Math, with-“ His hand nudges the schedule and you offer it to him. “Huh, you have almost all your classes with me, I can walk you to most of them, the only class you don’t have is science, but you have that with Fangs so-“ “Fangs?” You question and he beams. “My friend Fangs, I’m Sweet Pea, you are?” He holds his hand you for you to shake, handing you back your schedule. “Y/N.” “Did you just move here?”

“Yes, from Centerville.” “Centerville, Jesus, you glad you got out?” He whistles slightly and you sag in relief. “Yes, it was awful.” You relax, comforted by his similar reaction. “I can’t imagine, actually I don’t want to. Is it true that half of the main school have been in the corrections center?” “No, that would mean they got caught.” You offer a wry smile and Sweet Pea smiles back. “Well then, let’s hope none of them follow you here.” You laugh nervously nodding.

You’re thankful that Sweet Pea seems to keep you in his sights. It not hard considering you share all your classes so far. “So we can eat lunch with my friends if you want?” “Sure, sounds good.” –Don’t freak out. They’re not like yours were.- You follow Sweet Pea outside, toward a table with a group of guys in black leather; they’re joined by another group. You watch as they turn nodding to Sweet Pea. “Alright introductions then, everyone, this is Y/N. She moved from Centerville a few days ago.” You wave and the entire group at you.

“This is Toni and Cheryl, Cheryl’s Captain of the River Vixen’s, which feature, Veronica, Josie, and Betty; Betty’s dating Jughead, who’s leader of the Serpents, which includes Toni, Fangs, and me.” He gestures to each person as he names them. You wave to each of them and they wave back. “Is it a dumb question to ask what the Serpent’s are?” You’d heard whispers of them in Centerville but the rumors varied from an after school club to a prison run gang. “We’re a gang.” Fangs states and you nod, relieved at the open answer.

Sweet Pea had been the one to invite you to his trailer, you were nervous, but followed him in surprised when no one else was in. “You live alone?” “Yeah, it’s just easier, my parent’s have their own place I just wanted to stay.” He nods to the couch and you sit down watching him as he moves around his home. “Out of curiosity why did you move here of all places? Can’t have been for the ‘pep’ can it?” –Lie- “I uh, my parents were going to send me to the Sisters and-“You cringe at his frown. “Why?” -Lie to him. Lie to him.- “They thought it would be better for me.” –They didn’t want to deal with you; they were tired of the lies. Like your friends, like Sweet Pea will become.-

“Better how? Or is that one of those, not allowed to talk about it.” You shrug. “I just; I made some bad choices, got on the wrong track.” He drops the thread of the conversation instead asking how you’re finding Riverdale and how you feel about living in Sunnyside. He talks about himself telling you about chaining himself to his old school, and protesting about Riverdale trying to get rid of the Serpents.

It’s not long before Cheryl decides to throw a party for some reason or other, everyone is excited and you hope the terror you feel can be interpreted as the same. You arrive with the Serpent’s, specifically Sweet Pea, he’d insisted it was easier for everyone to carpool, and he had an extra helmet for his bike so it wouldn’t be a problem for you to ride with him. “Come on Y/N Cheryl’s parties get crazy it’ll be-“ Whatever he’s saying fades out, as you step forward.

~~~ “Seriously Y/N, it’ll be fine! No one will care you weren’t invited. Seriously just come in and have some fun!!” You offer a strained smile as you follow your friends stepping through the door to hear music blasting. You’re moving around the main room, cringing at the sound, you can’t hear your own thoughts, let alone anyone saying anything so when Lance appears holding out drinks for everyone, you think nothing of taking it. Everyone else is drinking why shouldn’t you.~~~

Sweet Pea holds something out to you and you recognize it as a water bottle. –Don’t take drinks from anyone, always watch your drink- You hesitate, but take it anyways, surprised when it’s sealed as you open it. “Come on everyone’s this way.” Sweet Pea herds you further in and you wait for his hand you touch your shoulder, to steer you where he wants you. –Upstairs to the bedrooms, god knows this place must have extra rooms no one will check in- He walks with you, hand hovering behind your back as you turn past the stairs and back through the kitchen to the backyard. You stare fearfully at the pool for a moment, stepping back, bumping into Sweet Pea’s arm.

“You okay?” –Lie.- “Fine.” You take a swig from the water bottle and notice how everyone’s gathered in a circle eating pizza. “Hey you two made it! Sorry about the secrecy Y/N, we usually do an inner circle party once a month!” Cheryl nods to you and you tilt your head. “Inner circle?”

“Yeah we’re all really close, we went through a lot together, you’re part of that now.” -They know, they know, they know.- “So, as usual Sins and Secrets time!! It’ll be interesting now since we have Y/N to confess to, and we get to hear her deepest secrets.” Toni laughs as Fangs explains the rules; Sweet Pea sits next to you. “Cheryl can go first to show you. Since it’s her party.” Toni nods. “I slapped Jughead when I thought his dad killed my brother.” You turn to the rest of them and they shrug. “That’s not that dark Cheryl..”

“I don’t want to scare her off. Come on Y/N confess.” –Lie, Lie Lie, if you tell the truth they’ll never talk to you again. You don’t have anywhere left to run, lie, lie lie.- “ I uh, I moved from Centerville because- I just-“ You swallow; you don’t realize someone’s arm is around you until they’ll pulling you closer. “Hey it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” You shake your head. “No you guys should know I’m a liar, get over with the realization you don’t want to be friends with me.” You swallow, shaking still as you look around at everyone.

“I left Centerville cause I lied about a lot of stuff, happening to me.” You can see Cheryl frowning, as do Veronica and Betty. “You lied about being sexually assaulted?” they guess and you nod, still shaking. “Why would you lie about that?” They sound upset, angry even. –You did it now, they’re going to hate you, might as well spill all of it.- “Well I mean we were dating so it’s not like it counted cause we were dating and even then I didn’t say no or anything I didn’t even try to leave.” –You tried to run he just was too fast, he didn’t want you to move, he gave you too much to drink, it wasn’t drugs they flushed out of your system too fast to be tested anyways.- “My, his friends agreed with him, it makes sense, I was just wanting attention cause he broke up with me, it wasn’t anything serious either way we just-“ You fade off watching everyone staring at you.

“Sorry, I just, I can leave it’s no problem for me to-“ “Fucking hell I can see why you left Centerville, full of rapists and people who look the other way.” You freeze. “What?” –No you’re supposed to hate me, I lied, I lied.- “That must have been horrible, I’m so sorry that happened to you.” “No, but it didn’t like everyone said I was just making it up, it wasn’t real so-“ –They’re angry for you. They want to hurt him as much as you do.- You quiet as they all seem to crowd you in comfort, Betty and Cheryl taking your hands and Toni awkwardly hugging you as Veronica nudges Sweet Pea away, you turn gripping for what you now know was his arm.

You’re not one hundred percent sure what the look they share is, but it flashes across all their faces and Sweet Pea offers to take you home moments later, you nervously grab a slice of pizza eating it as he leads you back out of the house and to his bike. “Hey, listen Y/N, I’m sorry all that happened to you.” You shrug. “I’m sure there’s been worse.” Sweet Pea sighs kicking the ground. “Just because there’s been worse doesn’t make what you went through okay.” You nod to him and he pulls you into a hug as he holds the helmet out to you.

You swing your leg over getting off as he pulls up to his trailer. “Sweet Pea, I, I didn’t tell them everything.” “Hey it’s okay, you don’t have to. It’s your choice to talk about it. “I, can I tell you?” He nods opening his door and sighing as you sit on the couch. He sits next you and you burrow under the blanket and into his side. He chuckles slightly and you smile up at him. “I’m here, you can tell me whatever you want.” You nod closing your eyes.

~Lance had brought you upstairs before leaving you to sit in the room for what felt like hours. You’d been confused, sluggish to respond when you’d felt the zip tie sliding against your wrist. “So you don’t run off and say anything.” His voice is distorted and you sit, sliding against the side of the bed trying to snap the tie off the post. You manage to dig it into your skin enough where you know it’ll leave a scar. Your knees are also bruised a product of trying to pull yourself free, using your own body as a counter weight. Lance returns laughing at you. His voice is echoing and you don’t realize its because he’s not alone. When he shoves you, jerking the tie back against your wrist and almost throwing you onto the bed is when you fall back into unconsciousness, whatever sedative combining with the drinks to knock you out.~

“What’s his last name?” Sweet Pea growls out and you shake your head. “Sweet Pea, please don’t he’ll know it was me.” “He’s going to need to answer for that, one way or the other. Serpent’s protect their own.” “That extends to friends?” You ask surprised, unsure how the Serpent’s manage to protect so many people. “Relationships.” “We’re not in a relationship.” You state confused when Sweet Pea seems shocked. “Sorry right, still, he’s going to pay for that.” “There’s more.” You reach for the water bottle on the table and Sweet Pea pulls it to you, you place it back on the table after drinking from it, shifting away from him slightly. “Y/N, come back, you don’t need to move away from me; I don’t think less of you.” You sigh shakily.

“You don’t need to tell me right now, take a break sweetheart, come here, come here.” He slowly reaches for you and you fold into his arms, as he tucks the blanket around both of you, you curl into him shaking as you sob. “They thought I was lying, they said they knew him best, they said-“ “Shhh, shhh love, it’s alright, it’s over, it’s over. You’re safe now.” You don’t bother nodding just sighing and laying your head on his chest. “Thank you.” You say as you start to drift off.

When you wake up you haven’t moved. Sweet Pea hasn’t either and you watch him for a moment trying his best to stretch his arm to grab at his phone, you reason his other hand would be far closer but it’s currently wrapped around you, you nudge him with your forehead and he turns. “You can move your arm, if you want.” “No.” He states and you frown. “It’s literally easier for you to do it with this arm, just move it.” You tug at the arm wrapped around you and he just tightens his grip.

“Just let got of me and I’ll grab it for you if you want.” Sweet Pea shakes his head pulling you back to his chest as you half struggle to get up. This causes you both to tip off the couch, you’re waiting for your head to smack against the floor but you open your eyes to see Sweet Pea smirking at you, your head cushioned by his arm. ‘See that’s why I didn’t want to move it.” “So it could get crushed by my head?” “No so it could protect you.” “Oh that’s dumb. I’m not-“ You close your mouth as he glares.

“If you say you’re not worth protecting I’m never letting you go.” “I’m not worth protecting.” You smile shyly, face flushed. “Was that serious or do you just want to mess with me?” “It’s semi-serious.” You counter and Sweet Pea shakes his head moving back to the couch nodding at you to do the same. “Semi-serious meaning.” “I’d very much like you to not let me go, but that’s just my preference.” Sweet Pea nods thoughtfully. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” “Pop’s, it’s good one of our preference’s lined up, but now we have to see if others do.” “Pop’s the diner right?” He nods and you swing your leg over on his bike. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to judge me on my order.” “No just pay for it.” He shouts of the roar of his engine.

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[whump-town]

The Lies We Tell

Aaron Hotchner has been lied to his entire life. That’s the thing about good intentions...

Warnings:  abuse

The day that Haley’s family moved into the neighborhood is seared into Hotch’s memory.

He was pulled out of bed by his father. The older man slurring his words, heavily affected by whatever cheap liquor he’d been drowning himself in the entire afternoon prior. He had no chance to understand what was being said. He’d gone, regardless, in the direction of his father’s pulling to alleviate the pressure on his shoulder joint. Knowing too much of the pinned, awkward angle would spell misfortune for him.  

Sure enough, his shoulder comes free with a pop and a chocked grunt of pain-- he knows better than to cry out. He suffers through the drunken rant his father’s worked himself into, careful to keep his wounded arm tight to his chest. In the privacy he’s afforded, only after his father’s taken a few blows and has resigned himself to sleeping off his slump, he can reset his shoulder. Should he do it by himself? No. There, simply, isn’t any other option.

With word of the family moving in down the street, the Brooke’s, his father sobers up to put up his best front: loving father who day-lights as a lawyer and spends his nights beating the shit out of his family. That doesn’t mean that Aaron doesn’t manage to “step out of line” just as they’re leaving-- how dare he existed in his home. 

With his ears still ringing from the blow to his head, vision swimming, Aaron Hotchner stands between his mother and father on Brooke’s lawn. His father beams down at him, pride and joy in every area of his face except in his eyes. The only place it matters is the only place it isn’t. The family across from them doesn’t take note of how empty his father’s eyes are or how hard his grip is on Aaron’s bony shoulder. All they see is a family that mirrors their own:

A father, a mother, and two children. 

The Brookes are a good family. It takes years for Aaron to grow out of his contempt for them. By then, his father is dying and the beatings are getting worse. 

“Aaron--” 

He falls hard for Haley Brookes and for some reason she gives the world’s worse pirate #3 a chance. She starts to wonder how a guy like Aaron falls through the cracks. He does plenty of clubs and he’s as sweet as can be. His personality is a little underdeveloped, as are his social skills, and he doesn’t always understand current social things, but he’s funny, and he’s handsome.

And he’s got an awful home life. 

“Oh God,” she reaches for him and quickly realizes that was a mistake. “Sorry,” she whispers, taking a step back. She hadn’t expected the broken sob to leave his mouth when she reached for him. Sure, she’d noticed that sometimes if she reaches for his hand too fast he flinches away. She just hadn’t connected his bruises for… for this.

He’s shaking in their doorway, soaking wet from the rain pouring down outside. It’s too cold to let him stand out there for too long. 

She wracks her brain for what to do and with shaky inhale she forces herself to calm down. Aaron’s always fed off of the energy others give, it’s one of the first things you notice the longer you’re around him. His empathy is high. “Aaron,” she calls softly, extending her hand out of the doorway to him. He still has to step to reach her but that leaves their proximity in his control. 

It takes him a moment but he steps closer and allows his fingers to brush against hers. 

He knows Haley is safe. Haley will help him. He’s struggling. The line between pain and comfort is distorted. He’s scared and it immobilizes him. Rationally he knows-- he knows Haley will help him but he’s afraid his father will see. What if he hurts her too?

“Son?”

Mr. Brookes. He’ll protect them from his father.

“Son, what the hell--” 

Haley steps between them, seeing the way Aaron’s eyes light up at the sight of her father. He’s not in his rational mind. This isn’t his fault. “Daddy,” she warns softly. Mercifully, they pass between them an understanding. Her father hates the Hotchners and he distrusts Aaron and his motivations. But he understands this. He understands where the bruise swelling on Aaron’s right cheekbone came from.

“Let me help,” Haley whispers to Aaron. “Come on, you’ll be okay.” She offers her hand back out and watches as Aaron’s eyes pass between her and her father. There’s another moment, more hesitation but he finally breaks the gap. He trusts her. He’s always trusted her.

Once he steps forward, this time, he doesn’t stop until he’s got both arms wrapped around Haley. He sobs into her collar and she holds him. Pulls him close until he’s practically folded into himself to be at her height. To allow himself to sink into her arms and just be held. 

Haley’s mother brings in a bag of peas, cliche but the only thing they have to reduce the swelling in his face. Mr. Brookes stays in the kitchen, watching from the doorway as his wife and daughter aid Aaron. As uneasy as the situation feels him, there’s a stir of pride in the pit of his stomach at the side of Haley being so tender.

“Shh,” Haley runs her hand through Aaron’s wet hair. He flinches from the touch of the cold press to his cheek, pushing himself closer to Haley. She expects the movement and wordlessly takes the bag from her mother. “It’s alright,” she soothes and this time he sees the bag coming. He doesn’t fight it. 

“I’m right here.” She promises, “always. I’ll always be right here.”

He places his hand over her own. It takes him a moment to realize where he is-- laying in the Brookes’s living room with his head in Haley’s lap. Blinking tears out of his eyes he asks, “do you promise?”

Haley nods and presses a kiss to his forehead, “I promise, Aaron. I’m right here.”

That was the first lie she ever told him. 

___________

He makes it through training. Paperwork comes and goes. He can wrap his head around the cases that hurt the most but... he still stumbles. He’s not figured out how to hide these things from people trained to detect exactly what he’s doing. Jason and Dave are unforgiving. They push and push at his broken pieces.  There’s a moment, suspended, where he can recognize that he has exactly two options: fall apart or tell. 

And the time to make that decision is quickly leaving. 

The silence is building and while he understands that there is nothing wrong with the silence normally, here it is baited. Each moment he allows Dave’s question to go unanswered is another ticking time bomb that allows Dave to come to his own conclusion, however right they may be. 

Hotch doesn’t typically appreciate people getting into his head. He doesn’t appreciate anyone getting into his head. There’s a strange give and take with Dave, though. He’s come to understand a certain level of giving-- personal information as little as a review of his day or, from what Dave wants, an in-depth analysis of his childhood. These things equate to trust and… and, well, love. 

“Well?”

But he can’t say the words. They’re stuck in the back of his throat-- worse than choking. Exactly like choking. He doesn’t want the words there. He wants them aired out. He wants to tell Dave that his father hit him so badly once that he was hospitalized for three days in the ICU. That the hitting wasn’t enough. As he got too weak to hit, the verbal abuse was just effective. 

But there’s no Heimlich maneuver for emotions.

Just growth. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hotch doesn’t dare look up from the paperwork in his lap. 

The question had been if he was willing to tell Dave what it was that had bothered him so much about the family of their almost victim. Almost, being subjective. The boy had still been through the trauma of being kidnapped, it was just some cruel mercy he wasn’t killed. 

And for what? Hotch knew exactly what they were sending that boy back home to.

It’s the same thing he used to go home to.

Dave hums, it’s a specific sound he makes in the back of his throat and Hotch knows exactly what it means. He looks up and Dave just raises an eyebrow and shrugs it away. “I was just wondering,” he mumbles. “I also thought you should know that Jason called child protective services and I have a friend working on getting those kids out of that house.”

So he had seen the bruises.

“Oh,” escapes his mouth before he can bite it down. He nods his head and looks away, afraid of what he might see if looks at Dave for too long. “The father was unhinged,” he profiles. “Those kids won’t survive much longer with him.”

Dave nods, he’d come to the same conclusion. “Can’t imagine what it would be like to be raised by a man like that,” Dave says with a sympathetic shake of his head. “No one deserves that.”

Hotch refrains from nodding or even acknowledging that statement because he knows it’s meant for him. At him. Saying anything is admitting that Dave’s right. 

Clearing his throat, Dave settles his attention back on the road. They’ve got a long drive ahead of them. Plenty of opportunities to have this discussion another time. Aaron’s just starting to hope that’s exactly what’s going to happen when Dave glances over at him.

"When was the last time you slept, " Dave plays his worried glance off by looking in the rear view mirror. Checking behind them. But he doesn't need to be looking at Hotch to know if he's lying or not. The kid looks like shit. He hasn't slept properly in days.

Hotch looks out the window, leaning his temple against the cool glass. "Don't know, " he mumbles. 

Rossi hums. 

"Why?"

Rossi glances at him, for a long hard minute it's a battle of wills. With a raised eyebrow, Dave shrugs. "Just checking in on you, am I not allowed to do that?"

Hotch doesn't reply. He doesn't even look up.

“Kid?”

Dammit. He wants to keep to himself. He wants to just crawl into a hole and act like nothing’s wrong. His childhood was great. His father was a hero. His mother… but he can’t even breathe. Each inhale gets caught in his throat and he can feel panic setting it. He needs to get out of this car. “P-Pull over,” he gasps, fingers going to his noose-- tie. “Pull over!” 

He throws his door open, rushing out and toppling over onto his knees, gagging into the tall grass. A small voice in his head warns of the dangers of a snake, he did grow up in the south, but the way his stomach keeps cramping pushes that thought away. There are more dangerous things than a snake-- he used to live with one.

“Easy,” Dave mumbles from behind him and Hotch realizes he’s now leaning into Dave. Allowing the older man to hold him. “Easy, kid, just breathe.” Through each shuddering breath he pulls in, Hotch can feel Dave rubbing his hand up and down his back. His head is pounding, his ears pulsing. “Tell me next time you’re feeling sick, okay?”

Hotch leans back over, gagging miserably but unable to bring up anything with nothing left in his stomach. 

“Look at me,” Dave asks, handing him a handkerchief to wipe his face off with. “I’m not going anywhere, kid. You can trust me. I’ll always be right here.”

Two months later he retires. Hotch doesn’t even get two weeks’ notice.

___________

He keeps counting. Jason Gideon keeps counting and each time he comes up one short. The radio in his ear buzzes, body counts over and over listed for the personnel looking through the carnage. There are plenty of missing officers, a single swat agent, and-and Jason’s one missing agent. Possible missing agent.

Six agents in… If six agents went in then there should still be-- Aaron. 

Swaying where he stands,  Aaron’s looking at the ruined building before him. His dark brown hair is pushed in disarray atop his head. No amount of gel keeping his crazy hair down. Jason’s always found it an endearing, if not silly, thing for someone so serious to have. But right now he can’t appreciate the cowlicks.

“Aaron,” Jason calls, knowing how the younger man startles when he’s not expecting being touched. “Can you hear me?” The closer he gets the more blood he sees. It might not be Aaron’s. That’s a very real possibility but Jason doubts that the crimson stain on his chest is entirely someone else’s. 

Neither of their luck is that good. 

And Jason knows he’s broken his promise to Dave.

“Watch out for the kid, huh? He…--”

“Get himself into trouble? Yeah, I know. I’ll watch his back.”

Who was watching his back today? Not Jason. He let six agents die. He was stupid. It was a stupid mistake and now everyone else is paying for it.

“Gideon?” Aaron turns to him, confusion pulling his thick brows down. “I can’t--” he looks around them, to the smoke and the building. “I can’t find Morgan. He… I just--” He winces in pain, his left hand touching his abdomen and he pulls it away bloody. He looks up to Gideon, tears in his eyes, “I can’t find Morgan.”

Jason nods his understanding, keeping his slow approach. “That’s okay,” he reassures him. “Don’t you remember? I sent Morgan back to Quantico.” He’s close enough now to touch Aaron and he offers a squeeze to his shoulder. “He’s okay. He’s safe.”

Aaron sucks in a breath, it sounds like a sob but he nods his understanding. His knees start to give beneath him, no reason to keep fighting if Morgan’s okay. 

Jason catches him around the waist just as his knees cave beneath his weight. “It’s okay,” he breathes, shushing Aaron’s incoherent mumble. “You’re okay.” He places his hand over the wound, it’s easy to identify. It’s the only warm place on Hotch’s entire body. The strangled cry that leaves his pale lips rips through Jason. 

His breathing immediately becomes more labored, his eyes slivers. “Hurts…” his face is awfully pale. His skin is clammy. 

“Shh,” Jason looks motions for the medics running towards them to run faster. “I know, I know.” He tries to step back and give the medics room but the moment he moves Aaron grabs his hand. “Alright,” he settles back down, making sure to be out of the way but holding Aaron’s hand back. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.”

The minute he passes out, Jason pulls away. He just can’t do it. He needs to get away.

Hotch spends weeks in the hospital.

Morgan’s there… but that’s because no one else can be. Their unit is dead. They have to start from the beginning. It’s just Derek, Hotch, and Gideon. And Gideon’s off… God knows where. 

The day Hotch is released from the hospital, Jason visits. He stands in the doorway of the room, smiling as Hotch and Derek argue while Haley stands to the side, obviously displeased. He’s always enjoyed Morgan and Hotch’s brotherly friendship. No one was faster at putting the other in their place like the other but let either hear someone else bad mouth them and they’d go down swinging. 

Derek wins the argument and Hotch lets him help him into the wheelchair. When Derek looks up, pushing the feet of the wheelchair so that Hotch can rest his feet on them, he follows Hotch’s eyes to the doorway. “What are you doing here?” he spits.

It’s unkind but Jason’s expecting it just as much as Hotch’s soft reprimand in the form of a Morgan’s name grunted. 

Morgan looks back at Hotch, about to start another argument but they share a glance and before either says anything Haley steps up. “Come on,” she motions for Morgan to follow her. “Just give them a minute.”

Morgan gives Jason the look. It means many things but today it’s a warning. If Jason hurts Hotch, Morgan’s going to do worse to him. Boss or not. 

“How are you?” Jason asks, settling himself on the edge of Hotch’s vacated bed.

Hotch looks down at his hands, nervously picking at his nails. He shakes his head, “I’ll be back at the office in two weeks but they’re not letting me back into the field until at least the end of the month.” He looks up at Jason, “ and I have to pass all the field requirements.”

Jason nods, “that’s good.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “But that’s not what I asked.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, not exactly playing stupid but not playing along either. “Mmm,” he looks back down at his hands, brows furrowed now. “Haley’s pregnant, she--” he looks up at the doorway as if expecting her there. “She wants me to transfer. Go someplace safer.”

Jason takes this in for a moment, looking to the ground. He shrugs, “it’s understandable. You’re going to be a father, Aaron. Of course, she wants you alive.” He looks down at the floor, in shame or contempt, or just vulnerability. “You’ll be safer anyhow, now,” he adds. “If you decide to stay you’re going to be taking the Unit Cheif position.”

Hotch’s head snaps up, “they-” He looks away from Jason, processing the information. After a moment, he looks back up. “They took your job?”

Jason shakes his head, “no.” He nods his head towards Hotch, “they gave my position to a worthy candidate, whose name I put in the ring myself.” He smiles proudly, “and I am going to watch him build a new team as his senior agent.”

Hotch looks up at Jason and shakes his head but he looks away, unsure of what he’s supposed to say. He knows he can do the job. That’s always what he wanted-- hell, it’s what Dave and Jason both wanted. He just wasn’t expecting it so soon. He’s not sure he’s ready for it so soon.

“You’ll be great,” Jason reassures him. He gets off the bed and crouches down beside the wheelchair. Leaving the two men eye-level. “There’s no one that could do this job better.”

Hotch feels pretty adamant about this. 

“Look at me,” Jason requests. “Nothing is going to happen. You’re a natural leader.”

Hotch nods.

“You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Two years later, as Hotch stands before Strauss knowing that the last year has been an unraveling-- a never-ending list of things that have gone wrong and reasons to fire him-- he wishes Jason were here. He shouldn’t have to deal with all of this alone. And yet he does. 

___________

The world was on fire. Flames licking at the side of his arm and the way his legs refused to properly hold his weight. His knees hitting the gravel and the sting of skin tearing. But he’d sat in something wet. Crimson. 

Morgan was there. He was kneeling beside Hotch, his hand on his shoulder. 

“Agent Hotchner?” He flinches away from the penlight in his eyes. Someone says something and a palm settles across his forehead, this time he can’t move away as the light comes back. “Can you hear me, Agent Hotchner?” 

Morgan stands up from his chair. He pushes himself between the doctor and Hotch. “You’re hurting him,” he accuses hotly. The doctor can’t refute that statement, Hotch is still groaning from the pain spiking through his head. He’s raised his hands to ward off another attack from the light, writhing as he moves his sore body to get away from where he knows it came from.

The doctor sighs. Of course, he understands the proximity of agents. This isn’t his first time dealing with government agents. Things are just becoming tricky. Agent Hotchner’s condition is critical and Agent Morgan understands that a little too well. He just doesn’t understand that his friend’s not going to catch his death with a doctor flashing a penlight into his eyes but he might if his concussion worsens or turns into a brain bleed. 

“Agent,” the doctor says, growing impatient as Agent Hotchner grows more restless. “I understand your concern but your friend needs my help.” He knows he’s won the moment Morgan turns to look at Hotch. “Let me get him something for the pain and we can discuss this some more, okay?”

Morgan looks over to Hotch. 

He’s crying, most likely not even aware of the tears streaming down his face. His hands are pressed over his ears and he’s turned over so that his back is to them. He’s managed to draw his knees to his chest. He’s entirely defensive, his pain is that bad.

“Okay,” the doctor repeats and this time Morgan nods. “Okay.” He steps right up to Hotch’s bedside, gently shaking the agent’s arm. “Agent Hotchner, can you hear me?” He doesn’t shine the penlight in his eyes, he just tries to get some sort of answer out of the other man. 

Hotch manages a grumbled response, it’s too soft for Morgan to catch but the nurse facing Hotch looks up and repeats it. “He’s saying he’s okay.”

“He--” Morgan steps forward about to make sure they understand that’s very much not true but the doctor raises his hand and Morgan stops in his tracks.

“I know, “ the doctor confirms. He leans back over Hotch, “Agent, I’m going to have our very helpful nurse Sarah give you some pain meds, okay?” He pulls at the back of the gown Hotch’s bloodied clothes had been replaced by. He frowns at the road burn he finds but doesn’t comment. “You’ll be feeling a lot better in just a moment.”

The doctor steps to the side and motions for Morgan to follow.

Hotch cracks an eye open, fighting the currents of pain trying to drag him down to watch as the nurse pushing something painfully hot into his arm. It’s clear and his slurred speech doesn’t stop her. She pulls the syringe free and he just watches, that intense warmth working its way up his arm and into his chest. It hurts and it itches but his eyelids start to drop. Impossibly heavy.

Derek appears out of… well, nowhere. Hotch’s eyes move to the left, following the direction from which he appeared but he’s too tired to move his head and really figure out what’s happening. 

“Hey man,” Morgan greets. 

There’s something about the face that Morgan makes as he sits down in the visitor’s chair that sparks a sudden memory. “Kate,” Hotch rasps.

The doctor had just told Morgan that any stress is going to be too much. That Hotch’s heart and body just can’t take it. 

Morgan looks up as the nurse tries to step between them, allowing her through. She places a mask over Hotch’s face, replacing the canal he’d worn just a moment ago. Worse, Morgan recalls, the doctor said he was getting worse. So when he sits down he puts on his best show. 

“Joyner,” Morgan says. “You mean Kate Joyner.”

Hotch manages a small nod.

Morgan has to think carefully about his lie. He’ll have to recall these details later, to make sure the others understand his white lie. More importantly, Hotch has to believe him without a shred of doubt. “She’s downstairs,” Morgan says, which true. He’s just hoping Hotch assumes the E.R. and not the morgue. “You don’t need to worry about her, though,” Morgan says.

Hotch nods, “she’s… she’s okay?”

Morgan pulls in a steady breath, “she’s okay.” He smiles and offers Hotch a reassuring nod. “Get some sleep, man, you could use it.” He reaches over and squeezes Hotch’s hand, making sure he knows he’s not going anywhere.

Hotch can’t fight the drugs any longer. “The others,” he whispers. Morgan can’t hear him. “The others, are they okay?” 

His breathing has become steadily worse and Morgan knows that if he doesn’t shut Hotch up soon they’re going to kick him out. Which may seem like a good thing but they don’t know Hotch. He’ll kill himself trying to get out of bed to make sure no one else is hurt. 

“Everyone’s okay.” 

And Hotch doesn’t need to know any more than that. They’ll catch the terrorist and he can worry about not dying on them. Because Morgan’s not sure he can handle anything but Hotch walking away from this. 

He… He will walk away from this, right?

“Rest,” Morgan whispers. “We’ll handle everything.”

A month later, with ears as healed as they’re going to get and Morgan by his side, Hotch visits Kate Joyner’s grave.

“I’m sorry I…” Morgan can’t look at the gravestone or Hotch so he averts his eyes to the grass.

It takes a moment but Hotch’s voice cuts through the cold air with the thickness of his surfacing guilt. “It doesn’t matter.” 

It did.

___________

Eventually, Dave leaves and Hotch is left with nothing but his previously raised question: what will his son remember about his in ten years? And no answer. 

He falls asleep. It’s not a conscious choice but one his body makes for him. He’s been awake for the upwards of five hours, pushing past the mental fog a little too far. That had always been a problem for him. He could push his body, and he certainly would, but eventually, his brain would catch up. And, just as it had today, would override his determination to keep pushing.

He wakes to the sight of Emily Prentiss. She’s curled up in the visitor’s chair that she’d occupied earlier. Despite the days unraveling, she seems as relaxed as possible. But, then, she’s always held the danger of still water. 

“You should have gone home with the others.” His voice seems caught around his sternum, lower and more agitated in tone than normal. Grumpy. He can’t help it. He’s not sure he could even smile right now if he had to. Not that there’s any reason to. 

He’s completely alone.

She doesn’t pay his tone or attitude much mind but when has she? Given the last two years, he knows she’s grown some traction with the team and… well, they’ve grown closer as well. He knows this with an unfailing certainty when she simply shrugs away his comment. 

Sometimes, they can really test him.

As she does frequently. 

“I did go home,” she clarifies, flipping the page in her book without looking up at him. “And before you ask, I even got a good eight hours of sleep.” 

He rolls his eyes, definitely something he wouldn’t do if not for the hefty amount of strong pain killers being dumped into his bloodstream. He knows he’s been beat, as he often is when it comes to Emily Prentiss, because he can’t disprove she’s slept or went home. 

She reaches up and pulls--what he assumes is coffee-based off of the container-- a cup to her. She sips it and glances up at him. “Besides,” she says, putting the cup back. “I’m taking the first watch. I have to be here even if you don’t want me here.”

He understands well enough. Taking watch is not a new concept but the notion that he’d be on its receiving end is. He also knows she doesn’t mean the Bureau has assigned them to set watch, they’ve decided it amongst themselves. It almost makes the pain in his chest… numb.

He averts his eyes, looking to the ceiling. What’s he supposed to say to that anyway?

“How are you feeling,” she asks, tucking a bookmark in between the pages of her book. She sets it down in her lap, her full attention coming to him, even if he doesn’t want it. “Don’t lie,” she warns. “Your heartbeat is being measured out for me to see and you’re not that good at lying when you’re high.”

Like he’s let his heart rate give away if he was lying or not… besides, they both know lying while high thing is true. He hates that. “Fine,” he mumbles, eyes still on the ceiling.

She hums, “fine.” Sure. He gets stabbed nine times in his apartment after a case sent from hell by a serial killer they have profiled and know will continue to stalk Hotch for as long as possible. His only family has just been sent away for the next to foreseeable future and he’s fine. Just fine.

But what’s she to say. Everything’s going to be okay? She doesn’t know that. Even if they catch Foyet, that’s not going to mean Hotch can still look at himself in the mirror. It’s not going to fix the physiological torture.

She probably shouldn’t but she reaches between the two of them and gently takes his head. “Aaron,” she whispers because this isn’t the time for business casual nicknames. “We’re going to catch that son of a bitch,” her conviction feels misplaced but he can’t even bear to look at her and tell her that. “And you’re not going to lose anyone else.”

He nods, not able to trust his voice. 

He’s exhausted. Too tired to argue with her. 

“Okay.” 

She sits back in her chair and they sit in one another silent comfort. A few minutes pass and she looks up and finds him sleep peacefully. Those brows finally having relaxed and his mouth open. She’ll be right here to keep the demons away and if Foyet decides to show his miserable face? He won’t be ready for the beating she’ll lay on him.

She just has no idea how wrong her promise is. 

Now, she can squeeze his hand and promise him that he won’t lose anyone else. And he doesn’t for a few months. 

Then she finds him crouched over Foyet’s dead body and Ian Doyle claws his way from the grave. 

And he has to bury her. 

He looses her too. 

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #david rossi #jason gideon #derek morgan #emily prentiss #tw abuse

[darkshadow90]

Arthur Fleck/Arkham Joker x reader: Therapy Session

Summary: You’re a new therapist. You start your first day working at Arkham. The man you’re seeing is Arthur Fleck, or as you know him, the Joker. You’re not sure what to make of his provocative nature.

A/N: Hey guys. I haven’t written a one shot for Arkham Joker in awhile, so I wanted to give this one a try. The reader is a new, and as a result, inexperienced. Her first client is the Joker. Unfortunately the therapy session doesn’t go as she was hoping. She doesn’t know what to make of it afterwards. Warnings: Arthur is not nice to the reader. He provokes her, gets an emotional rise out of her. There are references to past emotional and verbal abuse, bullying violence toward the reader, though not extreme.  As you can probably guess, Arthur is written darker and more malicious. As with all my Arkham Joker one shots, I’m attempting to base his personality off of the small glimpse of Arthur’s/Joker’s personality at the end of the movie. Please let me know if I missed any warnings. I hope you like this 🙂

You were beginning your first day at Arkham. You were excited to start treating clients and help them deal with their mental health issues so they could be happier and healthier overall. Arkham was severely understaffed and needed a new therapist to come in and treat inmates. It was a win-win for you. It gave you a chance to help people and gain some experience. You went inside and a man was there to greet you. “You must be the new therapist. Y/N, right? I’m Carl. I keep track of records. I’ll be giving you your case file today.” “Nice to meet you. Um, I thought I would be seeing multiple clients today.” “Oh, not to worry. You’ll be seeing multiple inmates, but before you do, the higher ups want to see how you handle seeing one of our most troubled inmates.” “I don’t understand.”  He pulled you aside so the two of you could talk  quietly. “We’ve been having a lot of therapists quit after seeing him. The higher ups seem to think if you can handle him, you can help more of our troubled inmates. I will warn you though. Be very careful. Be on guard, because he unpredictable. Try not to get too shaken up. Here’s the file. The room  you’ll be seeing him is at the end of the hallway and to your left. Good luck.” You thanked him and took the file.

You opened the file and began to read it. The name on the file was Arthur Fleck with the word “Joker” in parentheses. It took you a minute to realize who it was. You felt a cold sweat, and intense anxiety. As you read the file, it listed his crimes.  It confirmed the deaths of Murray Franklin and three Wayne Enterprises employees. He was suspected of killing his mother and his coworker. You took a few minutes to put negative feelings aside and try to remain calm and neutral. You saw two orderlies  waiting in front of a door. It was the room you would be conducting the session in. They told you they would be right outside if you needed anything. You thanked them and they opened the door to let you in.

You managed to calm your nerves as you went in the room. You knew he was dangerous and of course you were worried that you could be in danger. But as a therapist it was your job to help people with mental illnesses, and you wanted to show the higher ups that you could at least  try to help a very troubled individual. You did the best you could to not look like you were intimidated. You got a better look at him. He was sitting in the chair across the table.  He was handcuffed and smoking a nearly finished cigarette. He was dressed in white scrubs. He looked like a regular man. He didn’t look like the sinister clown you were familiar with. He had dark hair with some grey in it. You could tell it had been a few days, maybe a week at the most since he shaved. He had stubble on his face. Despite his normal appearance, you still felt nervous.

You pulled out the empty chair and sat down. You were glad the table was there to create distance between the two of you. “Hi, Arthur. I’m Y/N.”  He didn’t answer you. It was like he wasn’t interested in anything you had to say. “Is there anything you want to talk about? It can help to talk about things. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” He still didn’t answer you. “Arthur, I just want to talk.” “Call me Joker, doll.”  “I...I don’t know...I think I’d rather call you Arthur if that’s okay. Anyway—”  He had finished his cigarette and  suddenly interrupted you. “You’re new aren’t you?” The sudden question threw you off . “Yeah. It’s my first day.” “That’s not what I meant. You’re a new therapist. You haven’t been doing this very long.” “No.” “Those idiots. They could’ve at least  made it interesting.” He chuckled to himself, you weren’t sure what he meant, but it touched a nerve.

He smiled to himself. He had you where he wanted you. “Okay. Let’s talk. But I wanna know about you, Y/N. What was school like for you? Were kids mean to you?” “Sometimes.” “I bet they said awful things didn’t they? You were lonely, just wanted a friend?” “What about you, Arthur? Were kids mean to you?” He ignored your question, and kept probing. “The teachers weren’t very nice to you, were they? What’d they do? Tell you you never think? Tell you your work isn’t good enough no matter what you did? Did they call you out in front of everyone so they could use you as an example of mistakes not to make on work?” That last one got you. The memories of teachers berating you came back. “I would tell you a joke, but I don’t think you’d get it.” “That’s enough!” You lashed out without thinking. You realized he was trying to provoke you, and it worked. “I’ll see you two days from now around 10am, Arthur.” 

You picked up the file and began to leave. “Wait. Before you go, can you grab a cigarette for me, princess?” He gestured his cuffed hands, telling you he couldn’t get a cigarette. You thought since he was handcuffed, you would be safe. Unfortunately, as you bent down to grab one for him, he put his wrists around your neck and began to choke you with the chain link of the handcuffs. Fortunately the orderlies came in. “Get the fuck away from her! Hands up!” They tackled him off of you and you were gasping for air. They asked if you were okay. You said yes and left the room, wondering if you made the right choice.

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck x female reader #joker fandom #joker imagine #joker movie #joker 2019 #joaquin pheonix joker

[kinokomynx]

SOME TRIGGER WARNINGS, TALK ABOUT SUICIDE AND PORN

Hi um!

So, little ramble note.

I have a little sister, who is around 15 and is still experiencing her sexuality, pronouns, and how she wants to live life.

She called me crying at 2:42 in the morning, which was an hour ago. I was sleeping, knocked out from the 3 ibuprofen I take because of my insomnia but, I see my phone ringing. Like continuously, so I answer and it's my sister. She rarely ever calls but texts, but I hear her crying with banging along with yelling in the backround. So, of course, I'm up and ready to see tf is up. My sister whispered to me through the phone, I could barely hear:

"Mom is screaming at me and is still screaming at me. Can you pick me up? I'm locked in my room, and she's saying mean things. Please come pick me up, I'm scared" While crying and I could tell by her voice, she was terrified.

I, of course, tell her to stay in her room till I get there and I will make sure things are okay. I get there, my mom is irritated and is sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette and drinking whiskey.

I pick her up and don't question what's up till I get back to my apartment. We get inside, I cook her food and make her drink water because she looked like she hasn't slept in days and looks highly dehydrated. I then ask her what happened.

She explained that she was watching porn, which is normal. And it was Lesbain porn, which in case. She's still trying to figure out her sexuality. My mother soon found out, and was threatening to take her phone away, and was also threatening to kick her out.

She was saying: "How disgusting watching porn was and how she should be ashamed." My sister was utterly embarrassed and was upset. I would too, I mean. Porn is normal, my sister even commented that she was screaming like bloody murder.

I don't have to greatest relationship with mom. My mom has always been the type of person to judge immediately after meeting you and getting nto people's business even if it's not her problem. She's been like this her entire life. I mostly had go lie and keep things secret from her, like cash or my phone. I even had to buy my own phone, because she was soooo up in my business.

I never got along with my Mother while growing up, she was mentally and verbally abusive and mostly caused my PTSD problems and triggers. She's not the greatest person, but. I don't cut her off because of my sister.

My sister is my life and she brings so much joy to me. She's the silliest and cutest person ever. She's the reason why I'm still here and haven't committed suicide and gotten the help I need. She brings me so much joy, that's unbelievable. If it wouldn't be my sister, I wouldn't be here. (Please don't take this offensive, I love you guys and am thankful for the support, but my sister is more important to me. Sorry)

Well, I just got off the phone with my mom like 30 minutes ago and asked her why she was screaming to my sister and I even had to acknowledge that porn was normal to watch. Since it's a way to learn and coop with masturbation.

She dared to say: "Look, I may not know what Pornhub is or what. But, it's disgusting and disappointing. She shouldn't be looking up porn, and especially Lesbain porn? Like, come on! Nobody does that and it's embarrassing. I don't want my daughter to become a freak. Especially one like you. I'm also kicking her out. She can get her stuff this week, or I'm selling it."

I- WHAT?

First off, watching porn is normal. Yes, it may be embarrassing but it's expressing a type of masturbation. Watching it weekly or every day, then yes. That's not normal, that's called a Porn Addict. But, parents need to learn that masturbation is normal and everyone does it, teenagers to it, adults. Even myself does it! Maybe talking to you're children and saying that if you're experiencing some questionable things, like what sex and what body parts mean. You should talk to them, but taking their phone away and threatening them?! No!! That's not the way to parent at all.

Second of all, kicking them out over porn and trying to experience who they are?! Don't you think that's a bit dramatic? My god!!!!! I may love my mother but I will not be in the same room with her because all she does is speak ignorance and awful things.

So story short, my sister will be living with me and I will be helping her to save up a new phone, because the one she has is connected to my mom's. What I mean is that, my sisters phone has a time limit and my mom is able to see and acknowledge what she can do to her phone.

Sorry for the rant, I just had to get this off my chest. Please, PLEASE teach you're children that it's okay to watch porn and people should normalize it. But, please seek professional help if you watch porn 24/7. As a gate away form society, this is bad for you're mental and physical health if you do it a lot.

[iheartsunset]

Papa Louie Emery Headcanons (Amii’s PL pre-gen for Utah and Nevada)

(I love Amii’s OC so much and I’m so glad they asked me to write about them! I also got some ideas from @freezeriafan and I love their analyses too!)

@maznanangy @amii

-Emery Young-Freeman (she keeps Freeman just to rub it in her ex’s new wife’s face) is the 42 year old mother (if you can even call her that) of Nevada and Utah. She works as a bitchy office manager for Travel Trout above Ivy, who Emery keeps investigating because she is “very suspicious”. Emery has unfortunately re-emerged back into her kids’ life and now they dread existence. I feel like Emery lives in a small Tastyville house where she is a menace to her neighbors and the townspeople. Utah and Nevada go by the surname “Mahelona” from their paternal grandparents to both honor their heritage and cut off any connection to Emery.

-Emery grew up in an upper middle class family as the oldest of 2 kids. Her brother, Wayne Jewell (Wayne is also a county in Utah), is about 14 years younger and lives in Starlight City with his wife and their 4 sons. Their parents indulged in her difficult behavior and clearly favored her over Wayne, which was probably why she’s so messed up now. Okalani also used to babysit them, so she’s Nevada’s godmother. Emery was head cheerleader and Clark was a football player who was extremely smart. She basically just charmed him into doing all her assignments for her and they got married immediately after graduating. It was no secret to Clark or their daughters that she was cheating on him with multiple men and women as well as her abusing illegal substances. She even dragged Clark into it, and he was so ashamed after a while that he divorced her and made her go with him to Starlight City to get help. They both essentially abandoned their children and forced a then 16 year old Nevada to become the mother figure to Utah. Emery doesn’t really care about her kids at all and her reason for coming back was just to basically terrorize her ex husband who was trying to make up with them.

-She was totally a high school mean girl, not even a charming one like Regina George, she was more like Courtney from Jawbreaker or Marianne from Easy A. She’s also a complete Karen, always complaining, being a hypocrite, and a is a huge pessimist. She lies about the people around her, but is obviously terrible at it. The only redeeming quality about her is that she’s a hard worker and genuinely cares about the company, but that’s it, she’s not even nice or anything. She’s also stubborn, always staying or persisting with something that should be left alone (you probably don’t wanna get too involved with Ivy, I’ll just put that out there). Emery also might be going through a midlife crisis and likes to act like a teenager outside of work, often stealing clothes from her daughters or showing up unannounced to where they are.

-She, Quinn, and Sue used to be a polyamorous sort of relationship. Sue was only in on it because dates took stress off of her and Quinn just wanted a rebound because of her and Timm’s falling out. Quinn ended it after she proposed to Timm and they made up and Sue left because she met Mary. Despite this, Emery is pretty homophobic and claims it wasn’t even a relationship. She just sucks.

-Her friend group consists of Quinn, Sue, Mayor Mallow, Prudence’s mom, Vicki, Rico, and Rhonda. And by “friends”, I mean they tolerate her at best, except for Prudence’s mom because she’s just as awful.

-Emery isn’t a typical Karen, as she knows that vaccines work, the earth is round, and that wearing a mask is a good health decision. But Facebook Karens who run MLM schemes and give their children essential oils are the only people who tolerate her, so she likes to pretend in order to keep her friends. Emery also despises Minion memes, but will occasionally tag Utah,Nevada, Clark, and Ari in them to piss them off. Her PTA mom personality type would be Carol.

-She is one of only 3 people who have been banned from every single one of Papa’s restaurants, the other two being Guy Mortadello and Radley Madish. Utah at the Pastaria and Timm from the Bakeria banned her because she’s a jerk, but she was banned from the other places for verbally abusing the staff on a constant basis. She mainly just gets her miscellaneous boyfriends and girlfriends to get her stuff from there. She also likes to crash workplace meetings at Papa’s house just to rub it in Timm’s face that she used to bang his wife.

-She likes to eat tropical fruits and seafood. Her favorite food would be shrimp tacos with mango salsa and her favorite drink is a Hurricane (typing the word Hurricane as a Floridian makes me shudder). Emery also like coconut shrimp and sometimes sends some to her family, who just give it to other people because they don’t care.

-Alberto and Gremmie are Utah’s best friends and so they absolutely hate Emery. Gremmie plays all sorts of pranks on her and Alberto likes to hit her soccer balls on “accident”. But that’s nothing compared to Cameo, hoo boy does he not like her. He’s physically attacked her before because his love for Nevada is that strong, but it’s like she’s made of steel and always ends up whooping his ass after. Okalani, Kahuna, and Gremmie’s dad are extremely passive aggressive towards her too. Chuck is the only one out of all of them that will probably kill her both provoked and unprovoked.

-She is banned from every holiday and celebration that the Calypso Fam holds. It’s like Clark, Nevada, and Utah can sense her from miles away and they just automatically know not to answer the door. If she comes in, they just say “get the hell out of here, Emery”.

-She talks loud on the phone when she’s in line, and the conversations are usually not suitable to have in public. You can also hear music coming out of her headphones and she snaps at you if you bring it to her attention. She also has no phone case or pop socket, it’s just a phone. A plain, bare phone.

-She knows Ivy’s secret regarding the strange existences of Hacky Zak, CJ Friskins, Sweetheart, and potentially others. Ivy knows that Emery’s been too nosy, but she’s okay with it because nobody likes Emery and don’t listen to her anyways. What is the secret, you ask? Maybe in a future Ivy headcanons post will the truth be known...

-She named her kids after old states because the only class she was good at (besides PE) was geography. Why she never chose a name like Arizona or Florida for Utah we’ll never know, she was probably just being extra petty.

-Chuck has shot her with the pineapple gun before. Pineapple hurts. Not even the cold steel of Emery could deflect it. These are facts.

-Totally orders the most awful combinations of food and gets pissed off when it doesn’t taste good. Then she calls and complains about it and demands free stuff.

#papa louie #flipline studios #flipline #my headcanons #also amii and freezeriafan’s headcanons too #emery #pre-gens #emery freaking sucks #poor Utah and nevada #anyways stan Nevada #I’m stuck with so many play rehearsals #and my ankle is still fractured as heck

[brinaedwards]

Honey, I think We F*$#@# Up the Kids

The thing about this class that is really awesome is the fact that I can take a day to myself, watch movies and still call it homework. Euphoria took me a couple days of binge watching but still, it was nice to relax and take in films that I would have never watched on my own.  Some I enjoyed like MID90's, some I did not, KIDS. Like I said in my last post, I would not want to watch that film again. I have no real reason as to why not other than the fact I just did not enjoy watching it. Well the scene where Capser sucks kool-aid out of a tampon, yeah that could be a reason why not to watch it again.Everything else was really good though, then again I could watch The Breakfast Club all the time.

As a common theme of these posts I have a list of questions that I am required to answer next to me. After watching these films/tv shows, the character that I identified with most is a combination of characters. Specifically from Euphoria because honesty that show is pretty close to society today. Kat is someone I can easily relate to because when I was in High School, I was very much overweight. I never noticed it because I was surrounded by friends that didn’t make me feel overweight. Like Kat, those friends were really skinny and included me in things like going out and having a good time. I forgot what year but sometime during high school I met a kid who I fell head over heels for, similar to how Jules fell for “Tyler”.  However, I wasn’t catfished or anything like that but I was very manipulated by this dude, let's call him “Tyller #2”. . We were never together but I was like his side chick in a way. Similar to Jules, “Tyler #2”  convinced me to do things that I would never think of doing but being in a vulnerable state at the time, it was easy for him to take advantage of certain situations. For the first time I was very conscious of my weight, and tried all the dieting techniques out there and none of it worked. I eventually ended up being with someone else who actually made me happy and confident. But “Tyler #2” got under my skin again and I eventually broke up with the dude I was with under the false promise of being with “Tyler #2”. For years I was under this man-child's thumb and like Kat I spiraled, desperate to try and find myself. I would confide in friends and they would tell me to get away from this dude but I never listened. This kept going on for years. I ended up becoming friends with some not so great people because of it. Thankfully I got away before anything super awful happened. But back to “Tyler #2”. It was about a year into college that I got over “Tyler #2”, and that's because I woke up one day. I will never forget this but I remember him saying to me, “Maybe you should lower your standards and then you can get a guy”. I don’t know why that hit me so hard but in that moment I came to this realization that I shouldn't have to lower my standards for anyone, if anything I need to raise them. And that is exactly what I did.I blocked “Tyler #2” from all my social media, and when he called me out on it one day I looked at him and said “you are a disgusting, sad piece of shit”. After that moment I felt free. Like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I ended up losing a lot of weight and gained confidence back in myself. I found someone who exceeded my standards and I've been with him for three years now. I haven't seen or spoken to “Tyler #2” for a long time and I hope to keep it that way. There are things I know he has done to girls he was with, things that should have gotten him charged with assault but, of course nothing could ever be proven. That's why I can identify with Kat, Jules and come to think of it, even Maddy.

I guess that goes into the themes these films/tv shows portray in youth. Abuse, Social Pressure and Sex. When I would watch things like this around my parents or brothers when I was younger, they always gave me a look of shock and disbelief. As if things like that don’t happen in today's world or ever happened. And of course when trying to explain to them that things like that happen, they get defensive or even a bit disappointed that issues were never brought up. I think that’s because things like this aren’t  easy to explain, it's more than words can explain. A lot of it has to do with social pressures today, I mean social pressures such as the pressures of getting good grades, meeting parental expectations, peer pressure and massive world pressure that is being forced on us today. Euphoria didn’t go too much into detail of social pressure as much as it did with abuse and sex but The Breakfast Club on the other hand oozed it. For example, characters such as Claire, Andrew and Brian each went through their own pressures. For Brian he is pressured by his mother to get good grades no matter what, eventually the pressure of failing a class was too much for him and he brought a gun into the school. Yes it was a flare gun but the principle is there. In an article from the Pew Research Center, a study showed that “61% of teens today feel pressure to get good grades” That alone can cause anyone to go off the edge not to mention the public expectations put on youth, for example, Andrew having to win and prove to his father that he is cool. And how Claire values what her friends would think if they knew she wanted to be friends with the others. All those things are sometimes built up in one person and it's absolutely terrifying. The Guardian article on how Euphoria captures teen melancholy briefly mentions how we are a generation of school shooter drills. (I don’t know if that is meant as a description of how we are as a generation but that's not the point of trying to make). What I am trying to get across is that social pressure placed on youth today is scary, especially since there was a time where every few weeks there was a school shooting. I don’t want to get into gun laws because that is a long post for another day. I just want to get into the mentality of it all because The Breakfast Club highlights an important issue to mental health and what kids even now go through.

I remember being in highschool and my school had a serious shooter threat. My parents still sent me to school because they felt that nothing would happen. Nothing did but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t absolutely terrified. I did not attend any classes that day, instead I stayed in the band room that day because if anything were to happenI could hide in a cubby or run out the back door. Even more recently a few years back when SUNY Orange got a shooter threat, I didn’t even go and neither did a lot of people.

I am so thrilled that mental health awareness is something that is being recognized and taken seriously. The stigma behind needing therapy and vocalizing feelings needs to end, especially the stigma of gender roles. Abuse is a theme that is presented in all the films/tv shows watched this week. The Breakfast Club shows insight on domestic physical abuse through John, Euphoria gets more into the psychological, emotional, physical and self abuse that teens go through. This theme especially is something that needs to become more recognized and addressed. Abuse is not just physical, it is mental and emotional. Nate abuses both mentally and physically by using Jules as duct tape to make problems go away by black mailing her. With Maddy he uses his control physically, verbally assaulting her about how she dresses, oh the list can go on and on.

Sex is a common theme in all the films/tv shows this week and that is something that every teen goes through. At that age your body goes through changes and it’s only natural that it is explored. In todays world sex is not much of a taboo like it was for our parents. But at the same time I feel that it is. When I was in highschool sex was not talked about. It was mentioned once in health class but that was it. No one went into detail, there was no explanation about stds, how females need to check for things, the list goes on. KIDS was a film that went into sex way more than all the other films/tv shows. It highlighted the horrors of unprotected sex, such as contracting HIV. As much as I disliked this film it is one that needs to be seen. The lectures talk about the “Disneyfication” of things today but it's that way of thinking that is hurting the youth of today. I can understand that parents don’t want their kids going through such trama at a young age, but if they are not being taught properly, not being educated they are going to find out on their own. Any issues kids face today parents right it off as a “part of growing up” but when your kid doesn't know what a condom is, or how to properly use birth control what do you expect is going to happen when the daughter is pregnant or the son has an std? That is not a part of growing up, that is just pure negligence on the parents and teachers. I could really go way into more of a rant but I feel that a topic like this needs its own blog and this one is already long af. Here are links to videos that I watched that go more into detail about education today. I promise they are not that long.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Yt6raj-S1M

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnC6IABJXOI

Long story short, abuse, social pressure and sex are themes that kids face on a daily basis. It’s amazing that there are shows out there like Euphoria or films such as KIDS and The Breakfast Club to make it known that this is real. The world is a scary place, but that does not mean censoring that bad stuff. It means that the youth need to be prepared for a shit world, and if they’re not shown or educated about things before the fact then honey, I think we f*$#@# up the kids.

To make this whole post a little lighter let's just talk about the music, the Euphoria soundtrack was all of today's music, which if you listen to half of them its all about getting laid and doing drugs. Sort of on theme of the show don’t you think?For MID90’s the soundtrack fitted the “skater” “punk” theme. A soundtrack is something that can spark a memory, make it feel relatable. Take you back to a time where you had a similar experience. For example, certain songs I listen to take me back to when I used to be at Billy Joes in Newburgh line dancing, getting wasted and then eating pancakes at the Alexis Diner. It makes me think of what kind of playlist would describe my adolescence. Oof, well isn’t that a trip down memory lane.

I grew up listening to metal, my brothers have their own metal band, so I would be the only toddler sitting on the amps coloring not giving a shit about all the grimey people in the audience haha. It would be only fitting that my playlist would consist of metal & rock. However, as I got older I enjoyed pop songs and a couple edm mixes. My list would probably be:

Fame - David Bowie

ARTPOP - Lady Gaga

Bring Me to Life - Evanescence

Everytime We Touch - Cascada

Evil Angel - Breaking Benjamin

Forest - System of a Down

Hype - NEFFEX

My Curse - Killswitch Engage

Nightmare - Avenged Sevenfold

Shout 2000 - Disturbed

https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/my-adolescents/pl.u-8aAVVgafjg0W9A

These would be songs I would listen to non-stop as teen in middle school/ high school. “Fame” is a song that just makes me dance. I mean who doesn’t love a good David Bowie song right? “ARTPOP” is something that brings me back to when me and my uncle went to NYC to see Lady Gaga at the opening of H&M. “Bring Me to Life” is a song that honestly, all kids that are exploring metal/rock come across, the same is said for “Nightmare” and “My Curse”. “Hype” and “Everytime We Touch” takes me back to when I used to go to parties. I don’t know why but these were songs that would be on, I think because everyone was probably too drunk to care. “Shout 2000” is a song that my brother introduced me to, he would have this specific Distrubed album playing non stop and im sure thats why the CD got all scratched up. Ahh the days of CD’s, I feel that I’m part of the generation that saw the last of those things. “Evil Angel” is a song that I played all the time on my ipod. Breaking Benjamin was the best band I ever heard and when I got the chance to see them live it was amazing! As for “Forest”, well, System of A Down has such a chaotic, emotional style that you can’t just help but to headbang to their songs. This was always one of my favorites. As I got older my music taste  has expanded to musicals, classical, pop, jazz, kind of every genre but country haha. Sorry country.

WORK CITED

“The Sadness of Euphoria: How the Show Captures Teen Melancholy.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 25 June 2019, www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2019/jun/25/the-sadness-of-euphoria-how-the-show-captures-teen-melancholy.

Horowitz, Juliana Menasce, and Nikki Graf. “Most U.S. Teens SEE Anxiety, Depression as Major Problems.” Pew Research Center's Social & Demographic Trends Project, Pew Research Center, 30 May 2020, www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/2019/02/20/most-u-s-teens-see-anxiety-and-depression-as-a-major-problem-among-their-peers/.

O'Keeffe, Gwenn Schurgin, et al. “The Impact of Social Media on Children, Adolescents, and Families.” American Academy of Pediatrics, American Academy of Pediatrics, 1 Apr. 2011, pediatrics.aappublications.org/content/127/4/800.

TEDxTalks, director. YouTube, YouTube, 2 May 2014, www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnC6IABJXOI.

TEDxTalks, director. YouTube, YouTube, 6 Feb. 2015, www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Yt6raj-S1M.

[sephiroths-stuff]

Not to be all about snape or harry potter on main, but as a victim of both parental abuse and severe bullying as a child, I think it's worth noting the parallel of snape and harry and that harry is literally snape had snape had more than one good influence in his life and people in his life other than lily willing to really cultivate good in him and deal with him and maybe if Snape had had friends willing to do more than verbally berate James and his hang from bullying him and maybe if people had taken him from his abusive household and maybe if people had given him the support that Harry got things would've been different.

Snape had severe trauma. Snape was bullied from the start by the people who were supposed to be the good guys. Snape, from what I saw in the books, seemed to have been taught by his mother that the Gryffindors were lesser. He did not have good modeling. He did not have good family life. And he didn't have the support harry got. Harry had the weasleys. Harry had luna, Neville, Ron, Hermione, and many others (Hagrid, McGonagall, etc). Snape just had Lily, who it could be argued, was somewhat of a bystander/accomplice to his bullying in that she remained friends with both James and Sirius as well as Snape simultaneously despite two actively harassing and doing things that would be considered attempted murder, sexual harassment, and assault to the other for what James and Siriusclaimed was "because he exists".

You can say james changed, and while he may have, imagine how that may have felt for snape. For me? As a victim who has been in that place with few friends, seeing one of my only supports still actively cozying up to and being friends with someone who goes out of their way to harass me is hurtful. Even if she did stand up to him, we see it only once, while Sirius openly brags about their harassment of Snape, and you see that she nonetheless was still on friendly terms with him, and lacks the attitude of someone who has disowned him for being a bullying asshole which he was.

I'm speaking as someone who has watched my so called friends be best friends and even MARRY people who called me racist slurs, physically and verbally bully and harass me in high school and middle school and never repent of it. I have spent my life as a minority watching people be bystanders. Or be lukewarm. Or say "I'll be friends with people no matter what awful thing they condone because it doesn't really affect me" only in not that many words. This is a somewhat personal topic and I feel that in this discourse topic in Harry Potter people don't talk enough about the fact that perhaps had Snape had better influences and friends more willing to take a stand for him, he might have not been as bitter and hurt.

Am I saying he's not responsible? No. You choose your actions. I chose to take my pain and chose to work with kids and help people who've been hurt. Do I relate to snape a lot in some ways? Yes. I do. I also come from a bad background and have seen my friends do shitty things and have also watched people who claim to be my friends be bystanders to my oppressors. Am I saying Lily, James, etc. Are at fault for Snape being terrible to Harry, Hermione, etc.? No. Am I saying that their actions influenced Snape and certain inaction and actions on people's parts could've resulted in Snape maybe not being so traumatized and hurt he was drawn to people he felt could give him something worth living for? Yes. Yes I am.

People's actions, whether they like to admit it or not mean things. Snape is an example of someone people write off as an incel, toxic, abuser, etc. And he's all of those things. But he's also a victim of abuse, bullying, murder attempts... All before he does this. And it's rare that I EVER see that brought up in these hate posts. He's part of a cycle of abuse. He's a parallel to Harry. Harry breaks his cycle through the help of friends and whether Rowling meant to or not, she wrote a rather fitting side commentary within her novels on how a good support system of people who care (hagrid, weasleys, harry's friends, etc) can help change your life, and lacking that, such as in Snape's case, can cause the cycle of abuse to continue.

#harry potter #severus snape #discourse #abuse tw #abuse #jk rowling #don't fucking clown on this post #i swear to god #i typed this in dead seriousness

[thompsborn]

Can I get 👉👈 a Flash centric one shot 👉👈 for the song shuffle thing 👉👈

you were good to me by jeremy zucker, chelsea cutler

leavin' isn't better than tryin'

growin', but i'm just growin' tired

now i'm worried for my soul

and i'm still scared of growin' old

you were good to me

and i'm so used to letting go

but i don't wanna be alone

you were good to me

god only knows where our fears go

hearts i've broke, now my tears flow

you'll see that i'm sorry

'cause you were good to me

you were good to me

[send me a character/ship/dynamic/etc. and i’ll put my music on shuffle and write a drabble/one shot based on the first song that plays!]

actually i’m gonna wait to take more shuffle song requests until after i finish the ones i still have in my drafts!!

-

i was debating how i wanted to approach this and then earlier today @peachy-keener sent me messages about flash x harley which i already lowkey shipped before but now,,,,,,,, But Now,,,,,, they live rent free in my brain. but this is flash centric!! this is less harleyflash and more PRE-harleyflash. also post endgame.

the ending is abrupt and not good but i genuinely cannot figure out how i want to move forward so that’s the end! that’s it!

(it isn’t stated explicitly, but peterxnedxmj)

-

tw: rough childhood implications for harley, descriptions of neglectful parenting and verbal abuse, cycle of abuse, getting kicked out of the house, loneliness. it’s a hopeful ending though!! even if it is abrupt and not very good!!

-

Flash meets Harley Keener after the worst morning of his entire fucking life.

They’re going back to school, because of fucking course they are—barely two weeks have passed since Flash reappeared on the steps leading up to MoMA, tripped over his own two feet in his haste to get a grip on his bearings, and prompty slips on a step and lands nose first into the concrete, a crunch filling his ears. The public hasn’t even gotten a full release about what the hell happened—just a basic press conference, where Steve Rogers, clad in stained sweatpants and with bags under his eyes, a side of him that the public has never seen, handed his shield over to a teary eyed Sam Wilson and promised transparency and honesty, the entire story from start to finish with nothing held back, as soon as they recovered enough to give it all.

Flash doesn’t want to go back to school, except for the fact that he definitely does, if only for the chance of semblance of normalcy.

Everything is different now, after the snap. Or, the re-snap—second snap, the return, the blip, whatever the hell people are calling it. He doesn’t care about what it ends up being called. He just knows that nothing is the same, now.

His sister wasn’t one of the ones who lived those five years, crumbled to ash (dust?)just like Flash did, and he despises the meer idea of Jesse staring down at her hands in terror while watching them disappear and him not being there to at least offer comfort, or something, but he’s selfishly grateful, as well. He didn’t miss a second of her growing up. She’s only thirteen to his sixteen, after all—had she lived, he would have come back to his baby sister being a year older than him, likely a completely different person, like all the shells of people he’s seen on the streets, shells that only ignite with life when they find the person they lost. Christ, Jesse could have been one of those shells.

Thinking about it makes shivers run down his spine, his stomach churn.. He hates it. He hates how close he was to losing that.

God, he hates them—his parents, or the sorry excuse of parents that they are. He hates that he’s coming back from being dead for five years to a step-mom and a step-dad, both of whom clearly despise the fact that they’re expected to help raise these two kids who are just lost and terrified and trying to adjust. They both moved to bigger houses—that are, at the very least, still in the same neighborhood and no more than a ten minute walk apart, making it a bit easier to handle when, inevitably, Flash gets shoved into his father’s care while Jesse is lovingly enveloped into their mother’s arms.

Their mother, who seemed to care at least a little bit beforehand—always kept bandaids and juice boxes in stock, just because he had a tendency of scraping his knee in elementary school and always wanted a juice box when he got home. Sometimes, she would brush fingers through his hair and promise that she loved him, even if she knew she was awful as showing it—even if she, willingly or not, would always love her daughter more. She had not loved him like a mother, no, but like someone who at least gave a shit about his general well being.

Something—well, again, everything—has changed since before, because his mom never even looks at him anymore, barely manages a glance in his general direction whenever he happens to be nearby, which has been a lot, because the custody battle—which, of course, his father paid great money to make a priority in the courts, and then blamed Flash for because of how far he had to dip into his wallet to make it happen—has taken most of the two weeks, even though it was that first day he was shoved into his father’s house, like they knew what they wanted, like it wasn’t going to be a battle until Flash and Jesse themselves spoke up about how much they didn’t want to be separated.

Of course. More things to blame Flash about.

Which his father—and his wife, Trudy—both do. Something they like to flaunt in his face at every hour of the day, like it isn’t bad enough that he put up a fight and still ended up separated from Jesse, like he isn’t about to go back to school with a still-healing broken nose and living in a house he doesn’t know in a room that was clearly never supposed to be his and—

He wakes up the day he’s supposed to go back to school and stares at an unfamiliar ceiling and none of the posters that he had up before he disappeared, an alarm clock that must have been invented while he was gone blaring obnoxiously in his ear. It immediately sets his teeth on edge, makes his shoulders tense.

Maybe, he hopes, school will be familiar.

But everything has changed.

The school, itself, isn’t completely different, of course—classes are where they’ve always been, even if the names on the desks have changed; bathrooms are still pretty gross and have that high school bathroom smell that, for the first time in existence, he’s kind of glad to come across, if only because it makes him feel like it’s still 2018 and he’s going to walk out the door and see faces that he actually know.

He opens the door and a tall blonde guy walks into it—nose first, of course, whips his head back with a yelp and brings a hand up to poke at his nostrils, looks down a moment later and frowns at the crimson shining on the tips of his fingers, and then looks up at Flash.

Instead of anger, he grins, all crooked and boyish, and says, “Hey, we match!”

“We...” Flash trails off, confused; this guy doesn’t even sound like a New Yorker. Has the normal New York accent changed, too? The dude sound souther, for fucks sake. “What?”

Bloody fingers point at Flash’s face—actually, really, at his nose, still bandaged. “That. Noses, y’know? Pretty sure that just broke mine, so—”

“Oh, god,” Flash groans, head dropping to his hands. “Please tell me you’re joking, man.”

Stupidly, the guy pokes at his nose again—this time, at the slightly noticable crook towards the end. He sucks in a sharp breath, winces, and says, “Well, it ain’t feelin’ all that great...”

Flash groans again. “Of fucking course I just broke someone’s fucking nose. Of course.”

“Uh...” The guy frowns, glancing down as a drop of blood falls on the tip of his shoe. “S’alright. You didn’t do it on purpose, so—”

Instantly, Flash chokes on a stupidly bitter laugh. “Not like that’ll matter,” he murmurs.

“So,” the guy goes on, either not hearing Flash’s interjection or choosing not to react to it, “I don’t see what the problem is, here.”

“Of course you don’t,” Flash says, laughing again. “No one—” he stops, brows furrowing as he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, shouldering his backpack with a sigh. “C’mon.”

The guy doesn’t follow when Flash starts walking. When he looks back, the guy is visibly confused. “Why am I following you to a random place, and why are you looking at me like I’m the one who’s being weird right now?”

“The office,” Flash says, instead of providing, like, a real answer. The guy looks even more lost, even looks over his shoulder like Flash is talking to someone else entirely. Flash sighs. “I just broke your nose, man. We have to go to the office so you can get it checked out and tell them what happened. Call home, too, probably, since you’re pretty sure it’s actually broken.”

The guy tilts his head. “We?”

Flash’s frown deepens into a grimace. “Yeah.”

“I think I’m a bit confused, here...”

Groaning once again, Flash gestures down the hallway, in the direction he had been trying to walk, and says, “We need to tell them—”

“That I walked into a door?”

“That I broke your nose!” Flash exclaims.

The guy crinkles his nose before immediately flinching and smoothening it out. “You opened a door. The door that broke my nose because I walked into it. That’s not your fault.”

Flash stares at him, beyond confused and borderline incredulous, but he’s also tired and he doesn’t know this guy or most of the people currently attending this school and his dad married a woman who hates him and his mom also apparently hates him now, too, and he’s living in a guest room that he knows was made specifically for Trudy’s parents to visit them and Jesse doesn’t like mom’s new husband (Flash doesn’t know his name; he wasn’t introduced to the guy and was always lost in his head whenever the judge occasionally brought it up during the custody ordeal) and she misses living together but she’s becoming less and less bitter every day, gushes about how much mom spoils her and peppers her face with kisses and cries while blubbering over how much she missed her and, Christ, no one missed him!

No one. No one wanted him to come back.

“Whatever,” he tells this stranger, no longer seeing the guy, no longer caring.

He doesn’t look back when he walks away.

-

Harley Keener—as Flash later learns, since he apparently has fifth period with the guy—is, of course, friends with Parker.

Parker, who Flash will never admit to admiring, will never vocalize how jealous he is of everything that Peter has, greets Harley with a small smile, and maybe, if Flash hadn’t instantly scoffed and looked away, he could have noticed the look of understanding and grief that the both of them wore.

Though, he can’t deny, seeing someone he actually knows makes things easier. Or, at least, it does for a few seconds, until he sees the way that Leeds is quiet, staring down at his hands a lot, looking at Parker like he’s looking at a gravestone, glancing at Jones, who is damn near stoic, with pain in his features. Until he notices all the ways that they’re different, too.

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, tastes copper, and doesn’t pay attention to the teacher—who he doesn’t fucking know.

Nothing is the same, he thinks.

Not a single god damn thing.

-

Flash finishes his junior year with no friends, bimonthly weekend visits with his sister, and so much anger burning in his veins that he spits insults at anyone who crosses his path, people who don’t get it, who will never understand.

“You’re a fucking hick that’s probably here on scholarship,” Flash snarls when Harley tries to interfere a verbal beating of a random kid who looks like he isn’t old enough to drive just yet.

Harley’s eyes harden, and his nose—not as straight, now, as it once was, a constant reminder of the break that healed just a little bit wrong—crinkles. He looks conflicted about the situation, and Flash knows that Harley has, for the past few months, been nothing but a kind stranger that tries to talk to Flash in the halls, who always asks how he is and how his day is going and doesn’t even deflate when Flash acts like it’s a hinderance, because Flash doesn’t know how to accept kindness, to react when someone seems to give a shit about him.

Jesse cares—loves him, of course. But Jesse is making friends at her school, and she’s adapting in a way that Flash can’t seem to do.

Harley is a person, a random person, who shows interest whenever he has the opportunity to talk to Flash. Who acts like, maybe, he might kind of care, too.

“Do you think anyone gives a shit about you?” Flash asks—seeing Harley’s face in front of him, sure, but his words are directed at only himself, unable to accept the idea of a stranger caring about him. “You’re nothing,” he says. “You don’t fucking matter, alright? No one fucking cares!”

And then, Parker—in a blur of motion, something awful and protective battling on his face—is standing between them. His teeth are bared like an animal, eyes burning, as he spits out, “Do not talk to him like that.”

“Peter,” Harley tries, voice weak.

Having none of it, apparently, Parker ignores his protest, tells Flash, who is shellshocked by seeing Peter genuinely furious for the first time since tripping him in the halls as freshman, “I don’t give a shit what you say to me, Flash, I’ve put up with it for years, but you do not talk like that to—to anyone else, but especially not to one of the only family members I have left!”

A wounded noise rumbles from Harley’s throat, but Flash—Flash is furious. Because, really, at least Parker has people—he has an aunt who is a better parent than either of his have ever been, friends who are so loving and protective that it feels like they’re in love with the guy ninety-nine percent of the time, and Harley, too? Harley, who has tears in his eyes and Flash doesn’t know if it’s because of his words or Peter’s, who reaches forward and yanks Peter back towards him. “Peter,” he says again, more forcefully now. “It’s fine, dude. Let’s just go.”

Parker sets his jaw and glares at Flash like his life depends on it. Flash, of course, decides to open his fucking mouth and says, “Sure, just go back to people who probably hate you—”

He doesn’t know where he’s going with that, but he doesn’t get the chance to before Ned fucking Leeds steps in front of him and swings.

He starts summer with another broken nose.

Sure, he deserves it—but it sucks, nonetheless.

-

At the start of senior year, Harley approaches him and, for some reason, apoligizes

“What?” Flash says—the only that that comes to mind, sometimes standalone, sometimes followed by an even more incredulous the fuck?

“M’sorry,” Harley repeats. “Pete shouldn’t’ve yelled at you like that, and Ned—Christ Almighty, he’s a sweetheart, but him and Michelle would do anything for Pete, and when they thought you were sayin’ that shit to him, there wasn’t nothin’ that could’ve stopped ‘em.”

Flash frowns. “Dude... what the fuck?”

Harley mirrors his frown, tilts his head to the side. “What? Am I not makin’ sense?”

“You’re apologizing,” Flash says. “To me.”

Slowly, Harley nods. “Yeah, I am.”

Flash shakes his head. “Why?”

“‘Cause you weren’t sayin’ that shit to me and Pete, that’s why,” Harley answers, almost matter of fact and simple. “I know it.” All Flash can manage to do is shake his head again, not understanding what the hell Harley is talking about, until Harley glances away, brings a hand up to scratch nervously at the back of his neck, and murmurs, “I mean... I get what it’s like, saying somethin’ about someone else that you really mean about yourself... y’know?”

He doesn’t have any semblance of control when his features go blank, when his shoulders are drawn up, defensive, disbelieveing. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Harley smiles. He smiles. “Yeah, I know what it’s like to play stupid, too. Seriously—I get it.”

No one gets it, Flash thinks.

He doesn’t say it. Or anything, really.

All he does is walk away.

-

He walks away later that day, when Harley tries to approach him. He turns tail and bolts the second he sees blond hair in the distance, whether it’s Harley or not—does this for days, and then weeks, and then—

And then Harley stops trying to approach him.

Flash doesn’t get why that fact makes him heavy, his brain a taunting repetition of knew that no one cared, knew it, knew it, knew it.

Oddly enough, it hurts more than usual.

-

He graduates.

No one is in the crowd for him—his mother planned a vacation with her husband (still nameless, since Flash doesn’t care enough to learn it anyway) and Jesse that just so happened to line up with graduation. Trudy and Harrison stopped acknoledging him entirely a few months after he came back, unless out of absolute necessity and usually with scathing commentary that burn every single time.

A few people clap for him—and he knows, once he sees that it’s Harley and Peter and Ned and Michelle, that he doesn’t deserve it.

Too nice, all of them. Acting like they give a shit.

Always too damn nice.

-

It hits him, after he gets kicked out.

Hits him, suddenly, how badly he fucked it all up. How he took an opportunity that he didn’t deserve and pushed it away. Harley had wanted to be friends, had cared, whether Flash understood why or not, and Flash had been awkward and unsure and ruined everything.

He sits on the curb with a suitcase. Only one, because it’s all he had time to pack before being shoved harshly onto the streets.

Though he wants to, he doesn’t cry.

-

It’s a miracle that the number hasn’t changed.

It’s an even bigger miracle that Harley, apparently, never deleted his number after what happened, after obtaining it only because he had prompted Flash about wanting to join the Decathlon team and asked if he could text him questions about it later that day, before—

Well. Before, but after. Before Flash destroyed what he didn’t even gave, but after everything shifted, changed, began to hurt.

Miraculous doesn’t even begin to describe the slightly hopeful tone when Harley answers and, without hesitating, asks, “Flash? You there?”

Doesn’t deserve it—god, Flash should be getting spat on right now—but he needs it, now more than ever. Holding his phone tighter, he stammers out a shaky, “Y-Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

Maybe his voice gave it away. Maybe the fact that he’s reaching out at all. Maybe Harley just knows. Flash isn’t sure the how about it, only able to focus on making his tongue cooperate with him as he breathes out a broken kind of, “I’m sorry, I—about everything, but I—I have no one else to call and you were—the only one, y’know, who was—who was nice to me—”

There’s a faint jingle. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” Flash whispers, trying to blink through the tears that suddenly fill his eyes, swallowing roughly. “I just—I started walking, once it hit that I didn’t know where I should go, and I—fuck, I shouldn’t have called.”

“‘ey,” Harley says, tone—firm, angry. “I dunno what you’re thinkin’, but I’m the best person you could have called. I’m on my way, okay?”

Flash closes his eyes. “You shouldn’t.”

“Well,” Harley says, “I’m not turnin’ around.”

-

He doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t, untill Harley steps out of a car wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt that’s inside out. Then, of course, he sobs.

Then, of course, Harley cares, like he never should have, and hugs Flash.

Jesse is the only person who has ever hugged him. His mother, almost, when he was really young, but—but no one else. No one.

In Harley’s arms, he melts.

#my writing #still dont know the ship name for peternedmj bc im idiot (: #harleyflash #peternedmj #idfk

[weaselbeaselpants]

I don’t like Johnny Depp

No, not Rango. Not Vinctor Van Dort. Not Edward. Not Jack Sparrow. Those are mah boys. They always will be.

I’m talking about JOHNNY DEPP

To be specific, I really hate his fanbase who I honestly believe wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about him if it weren’t for his characters and talent. You guys don’t know Johnny. I don’t know Johnny. Tim Burton IS a person who does know Johnny, but WE ALSO DON’T KNOW TIM BURTON.

So when you say “but lookit THIS person who said Johnny could have never done anything wrong” you’re working against your own argument; people have biases and know only so much as they can, even about friends and business partners. Tim Burton probably doesn’t want to believe what’s been said about Johnny. 

If I had to guess AS A VIEWER, what’s going on with Amber and Johnny, my bet is on it being a complicated situation. That’s happening with some relatives of mine;

Without naming names; the man had serious drinking problem and beat his wife in front of their daughters - man’s gotten better now but they’re divorced; wife becomes paranoid and convinces police that he was going to hurt one daughter (he wasn’t), denying him custody; wife refuses to take medication and denies daughter schizophrenia meds; other daughter is miserable and refuses to go against her dad because her mother is saying blatantly untrue things about them to our fam.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ this is something currently happening to some family of mine. It’s awful and it’s sadly not as straight forward as one party did nothing wrong and one party is totes innocent. This. Happens. A LOT.

Johnny has a drinking problem. It’s been getting worse by the year and is NOT something that’s oh-so-deniable by his friends and fam, but I guess pointing this out is uncomfortable for you Johnny-stans somehow?

My dad fucking died from alcoholism. For years beforehand, he was a verbally abusive explosive ball of toxicity that made me hate coming home from school. Knowing my father in his better moments, I can tell you he didn’t want to become this - but he did.

My dad was a beloved school teacher and people didn’t want to believe he was going insane so they pestered my sister about him. We reunited with one of his old students at a theme park once who didn’t even know we weren’t a family anymore or that he’d died. It was heartbreaking.

Yes. I’m dipping into my own life to show you all why this “Amber Heard is a scum-sucking-awful-monsterbitchwhore lier who should NEVER be trusted EVER”-attitude bothers me so much.

And if you say I’m projecting too much of my feelings onto this case while simultainiously calling for Amber’s death and Johnny’s innocence -

FUCK YOU

I don’t know shit about Amber outside this case. I love Johnny Depp’s characters. I really hope the worst parts of this story AREN’T TRUE. Like I said, it looks complicated, with no definitive right or wrong side from what I’m reading up on. But in that spirit may I ask that you PLEASE stop calling Amber all these terrible things because of what she’s said. If you truly believe in everyone having a story, than stop making this story the “definite hero” and “definite villain”-type story.

#johnny depp #Tim Burton

[fandomfanfics12]

For Blue, Blue Skies-Part 3

Title: For Blue, Blue Skies Pairings: Steve x tony Part: 3/5 Warnings: swearing, bullying, abuse (physical and verbal), blood, angst, fluff. Summary: Steve was sure he’d aced his latest test in his forensics class but as it turns out, Professor Fury failed almost everyone. In order to get extra credit Steve and his friends join a program that Fury called The Avengers to deal with a bullying problem at the nearby high school. Hidden behind the glitz and glamour of his father’s money, most people can’t see that Tony Stark’s life is a nightmare. All Tony wants is to get out of this hellish school as quickly as possible and get as far away from his abusive father as soon as possible. A/N: Tag list is open if you want to be tagged, next part should be up sometime in the next week. hope you enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2

That afternoon Tony nervously made his way to the Shwarma place that Bruce had told him to go to. He was just down the street from it but he was overcome with nerves suddenly. His body ached and he knew he should take care of himself, go to a doctor or tell the school about what was going on. But Howard had a lot of money and therefore a lot of power and Tony knew it wasn’t worth the risk. Tony didn’t want to go home, but he couldn’t risk another night in the park either. He needed to figure something out. Bruce is a nice kid, he’s not pulling a prank. Tony told himself but wasn’t comforted by that, his anxiety outweighed the logic. He was about to turn around and go home when he saw Steve, coming down the other end of the street and going inside the Shwarma place. It eased all of Tony’s anxieties because Steve needed to do well to get extra credit, he would be participating in some insidious prank. Tony forced his feet to move, his hands to stop shaking and made himself step inside. he spotted Steve, heading towards a table in the back where two other college students and Bruce all sat. they were all huddled around a stack of papers, notebooks and textbooks. They’re studying.

Tony was overcome with a sense of relief knowing that Bruce really truly wasn’t pranking him and had been serious about doing a study group. With newfound confidence he crossed the room, following Steve and hoping that maybe he could make a friend out of Bruce, maybe he could have someone who cared about him.

-

Steve sat down, pulling his textbook out of his bag, Bruce was in a deep conversation with Natasha and Bucky.

“about time.” Bucky grumbled to him when Bruce paused but then focused back on what Bruce was saying. Nat glanced at him and he offered her a half smile, she just playfully rolled her eyes and also focused back on what Bruce was saying. Steve glanced at the restaurant and noticed that none other than Tony Stark was walking towards them. He gave Steve a nervous smile which put a flutter in Steve’s stomach. Steve didn’t like that, this snobby rich kid had no place in his stomach, he wasn’t allowed to give Steve butterflies. Not like that. He thought to himself and then Bruce looked up, his whole face brightening.

“You made it!” he grinned and Steve frowned. He was overcome with the desire to protect Bruce, Tony was a bully and he couldn’t be trusted. Tony was just using Bruce for his own personal gain. Steve needed to figure out a way of warning Bruce before Tony used him today.

“What are you doing here?” Steve demanded and the smile slipped off of Tony’s face, a flash of hurt and disappointment in his eyes and then a stoic mask of neutrality.

“Bruce invited me.” Tony said as he sat down in the booth across from Steve. Steve realised that the other three had fallen silent, watching the two of them in interest.

“Last time I checked you weren’t in Professor Fury’s class.” Steve tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. Bucky cleared his throat but Tony and Steve didn’t dare break eye contact. In this lighting, his eyes looked more like a molten gold than their usual chocolate orbs.

-

Steve’s eyes were so fucking blue that it was actually ridiculous. They were an ice blue, cold and hard and unforgiving. Tony swallowed suddenly feeling like he was being put on trial for murder.

“Steve?” the girl asked but still they maintained eye contact. Tony knew he was supposed to say something but his brain was short circuiting. Even though Steve was an ass, Tony could acknowledge that he was pretty. The kind of pretty that made his heart ache, and seeing him in his leather jacked was doing weird things to his heart, making his brain go all fuzzy. He’s an asshole, remember? And that seemed to snap Tony out of it. because Steve hated Tony just as much as everyone else did.

“Bruce just said it was a study group, he didn’t say what it was for.” Tony said, forcing himself to look away from Steve and turn his attention to Bruce who had a single brow raised.

“I thought with that big brain of yours you’d be able to help. Or I could help you out with Miss Hill’s assignment?” Bruce offered and Tony nodded, glad he had the right books in his bag. He could still feel Steve watching him, glaring at him. His eyes were narrowed and his brows furrowed, creating a little crease in his forehead. Tony wanted to know what he’d done to offend Steve so badly, was their one and only conversation really so terrible? Did Steve really hate him so much already? Tony just grabbed Steve’s homework and took a look at it, reading over the notes Steve had made in his slanted handwriting.

“I think you’re overthinking it.” Tony said and when he risked a glance at Steve the guy looked pretty pissed off.

“Oh really?” Tony nodded, he was detailed but it was so detailed that the facts were lost in irrelevant pieces. Mercifully, Bruce had started talking to the girl and the guy, leaving Steve and Tony to their own devices. So Tony launched into his own explanation, going over Steve’s work and he kept waiting for Steve to explode, to yell at him or make some mean remark. But eventually Steve seemed to relax a little, deep in thought as Tony spoke, his face softening and the crease in his forehead vanishing from sight.

-

Steve hated to admit it but Tony really knew what he was talking about. His instructions were clear and detailed and Steve finally found himself understanding where he’d gone wrong. the hours ticked  by and at some point it had started raining outside. When Steve asked questions Tony would explain it until Steve properly understood the content, and then Steve started to feel bad for judging Tony so harshly. His immediate response had been to think that Tony was just going to use Bruce, but he was actually helping Steve. Even though Steve had been an asshole towards him. He hadn’t earned Tony’s help, and yet here he was receiving it. it was starting to get late and Steve’s stomach growled, the longing of leftover food at home filled him. His back was also starting to ache from sitting in this booth for so long.

“should we call it for the night?” Nat asked after Bruce yawned and the everyone other than Tony nodded.

“Sure.” He said once everyone stared at him for a long moment. Nerves curdled in Steve’s gut, had Tony had some elaborate plan for tonight? Was he planning on doing something to Bruce? Steve stood up and shoved his books into his bag, glancing at Tony suspiciously.

“thanks for the help Bruce.” Bucky said and Bruce nodded, Steve glanced to Tony and bit his lip. Was he supposed to thank him? What if he had some horribly awful plan awaiting Bruce? Some sinister plot that could damage the sweet nerdy kid?

“Thanks.” Steve said after too long a pause, his mother had raised him to be polite, even when Steve was reluctant to be so. Tony just nodded, tugging the worn hoodie sleeves down his hands and moving so Bruce could get out of the booth.

“Anytime.” Tony said but his voice was shaking.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asked and Tony nodded, his hands balled into fists.

“fine.” His voice tight now.

-

They were all staring and he was just trying to stop the oncoming panic attack. Howard would be waiting for him, he’d be pissed that Tony hadn’t come home all afternoon. Tony was screwed, he just knew it.

“Buck, Nat, do you guys mind walking Bruce home?” Steve said and the two of them nodded, finally Tony had names to the faces and he tried to focus on that detail rather than the impending doom that awaited him.

“what about you?” Bruce asked and Steve scratched the back of his head.

“Tony’s a scrawny kid, I want to make sure he gets home safely.” Tony almost snorted, as if the walk home was the worst thing that awaited him tonight.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to.” Tony said but Steve just shrugged.

“it’d make me feel better knowing you got home safely, besides it’s the least I can do after you helped me all afternoon.” Tony hesitated but nodded, maybe he could invite Steve in and keep him around for a while longer. Howard wouldn’t try something with a guest present, right?

“Okay.” His voice was barely above a whisper but no one argued then. So tony picked up his bag, said goodbye and then stepped back out onto the street, Steve beside him.

“you really don’t have to do this Steve.” Tony said when they were still standing there, neither moving and neither looking at one another. Both boys just stared down at the concrete ground.

“it’s honestly fine Tony, which way do we go?” he looked up and Tony met Steve’s eyes. His throat constricted so he just began walking and Steve fell into step beside him. The rain had mercifully stopped but there was an awful chill wind that breezed through Tony’s jumper like it wasn’t there at all. It wasn’t five minutes before he started shivering. If they had been talking, Steve wouldn’t have noticed. But they were silent and the sound of Tony’s teeth chattering together filled the silence that stretched between the two of them.

“Hang on.” Steve stopped and Tony did to, and then Steve was shrugging out of his leather jacket to reveal very large biceps that made Tony swallow. Why is he so fucking pretty? Tony wondered and then realised Steve was holding out his jacket.

“huh?” Tony said because his brain didn’t know how to function when Steve was being nice.

“you’re freezing and I was starting to melt in it anyway.” He reached out further, and Tony’s hands fumbled as he took it.

“oh, uh, umm, thanks?” Steve looked down at the ground and scratched the back of his neck as Tony shrugged the jacket on.

-

When Steve looked up he saw just how much his leather jacket swallowed Tony up and his heart stopped. His brain malfunctioned and his brows rose as his jaw fell open slightly. Tony, thankfully, wasn’t looking at him but was picking up his backpack again and then drawing Steve’s jacket tighter around him. He started walking again and it took Steve a moment to comprehend that he was supposed to follow him.

“So what do you want to do when high school is over?” Steve asked just so he could focus on a normal conversation rather than how good Tony looked in his jacket.

-

Tony couldn’t believe how warm the jacket was and it took him a long moment to understand that Steve had spoken.

“oh, uh, I want to go to college.”

“which one?”

“MIT, that’s if I can get in. the guidance counsellor thinks I’ve got the grades for it.”

“That’s far from here isn’t it?” Steve asked and Tony nodded, shoving his hands into the jacket pockets.

“That’s partially why I want to go.” to get away from Howard, even if it only was four hours away.

“I have a question.” Steve said it so suddenly that Tony jumped.

“Okay…” he trailed off, brows furrowing.

“Are you and Bruce like friends now?”

“Uhm, I don’t know?” he drew Steve’s jacket tighter around him and breathed in deeply, Steve’s scent clogged his nose and Tony was getting a little dizzy from it. damn Steve for looking so attractive and for smelling so good. The jacket itself was good quality and soft, softer than anything Tony had touched in years. Not to mention how it swallowed him up, only adding to the warmth it had instantly provided him. They’d be at his house soon, and then Tony would have to give back the jacket and deal with Howard’s wrath and it all made Tony’s stomach curdle and hands tremble.

“it just seemed like you two didn’t exactly get along the other day and then today he invited you.” Tony nodded, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of Steve’s jacket. What was he supposed to say?

“I don’t really have that many people in my life and I think Bruce just noticed.” Tony shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

“why is that?” Steve asked and then they were turning onto his street and Tony’s brain was starting to go foggy with fear.

“It doesn’t matter.” Tony said and stopped on his driveway. Steve stopped and spun around, his eyes narrowing and crease reappearing on his forehead.

“I want to think that you’re a good guy but Bruce is a good kid and I don’t want another snobby rich kid to just walk all over him.” Steve said and Tony stumbled back a step.

“I’m not going to do anything to Bruce.” Tony told him and Steve raised a brow.

“my job is to look out for him, and that includes making sure you don’t hurt him or use him. I’m serious Tony.” Tony nodded, inhaling sharply.

“Thanks for walking me home but I really should get inside now.” and Tony practically ran to his front door, panic rising in his throat. For a moment he’d thought that Steve had cared about him, had wanted to get to know him. But he was just as hostile towards Tony as everyone else was, he didn’t care about Tony. Tony slammed the front door shut and let out a frustrated groan.

“and where exactly have you been?” Howard snarled behind him and Tony inhaled sharply. Shit.

-

Steve was so pissed off at Tony for running inside that he’d started to walk home. He was almost halfway back to his apartment when he realised he’d forgotten his jacket. Dammit. Steve turned around and began walking back towards Tony’s house, irritation flared within him. He walked all the way back in the freezing cold to Tony’s house, trying to convince himself that it was good exercise. The lights were still on and when Steve reached the front door he began to second guess himself. Was this appropriate? Should he just wait until Monday? He shook himself and knocked on the door, it was his jacket after all. He waited a minute and nobody answered, so he knocked again. Harder and louder this time and waited another three minutes. When nobody answered yet again he tried the door handle, it was unlocked.

“Hello?” Steve called out slowly as the door swung open. The lights were on but the luxurious hallway before him was empty. Steve stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and took another step further into the house.

“tony?” he called but his voice was swallowed up by a scream. Steve ran, heart racing and blood pounding as the voice grew louder and louder. He burst through a door to find an old man, belt gripped tightly in his right hand, standing over a shirtless Tony who was curled up on the floor. They both froze and turned, Tony’s face morphed into a look of fear, the old man’s a look of rage.

“go.” Tony whispered but it was too late, the man charged towards Steve and Steve’s feet were practically glued to the ground.

#stony #stony fic #Steve Rogers #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #bruce banner #howard stark #high school au #au #for blue blue skies fic #Avengers #The Avengers #avengers fic #avengers fluff #avengers angst #stony angst #Iron Man #captain america

[imaginesmai]

Jax Teller-Safe

Plot: in your mind, it’s not his fault. It’s never his fault, becuase he’s your dad and he loves you. But there is one person who loves you more, and is willing to prove that what Clay does is not right. 

Warnings: physical abuse, bad parental behaviour. Clay is the bad guy, so he hits and abuses verbally the reader. Read at your own risk

The thing was, Clay hadn’t meant to hit so hard. For an old man like himself, he still didn’t control his strength, and sometimes the rage and the anger took the best out of him. He was a big man, strong and tall, so it was naturally that the slap had hurt so much. The rings on his fingers were only a plus, that had left a nasty red long mark on your cheek, from the corner of your eye to your nose.

Thousands of reasons flew through your mind. He was divorcing Gemma, after being framed for the murder of Opie’s wife and his father. The guilt, the pain and the sorrow led to the alcohol, the fights at home and the negativity in his life. After all, you kind of had been looking for it, right? Who leaves all the dishes dirty? Or forget to buy more beer for his father?

The answer came quickly; everyone can do that, but no one should hit his daughter over it. You told yourself that it wasn’t that bad, as you pressed the ice patch on your eye, the ring of black and blue bruises standing out against your skin.

It wasn’t the first time. Clay usually hit you in places that aren’t easily noticeable; your sides, upper arms, back. Places where the club wouldn’t see, and wouldn’t hate him more than he already did. You were the only reason he was back, because you had begged to Jax until he had agreed. Sometimes, you wondered if it had been worthy.

“Y/N? You there?” you heard Clay from the other side of the door, and you tensed. Putting away the ice pack, you ran to the door and opened it, not wanting to risk another fight.

What greeted your father wasn’t a beautiful sight. You had red eyes and tears stained cheeks, the bruise covering half of your cheek and you hair messy from being pulled at. He looked to his right and avoided the pang of guilt that filled his chest.

“I was, uh, are you okay?”

“Yeah”

You had learned not to expect any apologies. The first time it had happened, he knocked on your door two hours after, and you opened it ready to forgive him. Because he was the only person you had left, and didn’t want to be away from him. Clay repeated the same words he said in that moment, the first time he crushed your heart.

“We… we good? Do you want me to do anything?”

Are we good, so good that you aren’t telling anyone?

Do you want me to do anything in change of Jax not knowing?

“We’re fine, dad” you mumbled, looking at your feet. You could almost feel the relive radiating off him.

“Then, I’m heading to the bar. Make sure to leave something for the hangover on my room.”

There was a time, not so long ago, where Clay Morrow had loved you. Your mother had given you to him when you were just seven months, too busy with her lovers to take care of a little baby. Clay had raised you well, until the power and paranoias had consumed him.

When Gemma still lived with you, he tried to mask it. He only hit you when she was away for days, since she thought of you as her own daughter, and got by with degrading words that made you feel like shit when she was around. Clay needed someone to take out his frustrations on, and unluckily you were the only one who was still by his side.

The main door closing behind your father made your shoulders slump in defeat, and you vision became blurry again. You managed to get to your bed before breaking down, hiding your face in your hands and crying loudly. All you wanted was to be happy with your father, to have him back; because that monster wasn’t your father, you were sure. It had to be some cruel joke from where you had to get back at some point.

The phone ringing made you open your eyes, and you cringed when you saw the name pop up on the screen.

You didn’t want to answer it. Not answering would mean none of it had happened, that you were in a small bubble of comforting fantasy where nothing could touch you, and the spot under the blanket seemed very likely to be it. However, not answering meant too an angry blonde biker on your door in less than five minutes, who would see your face and probably burn down half of Charming until finding your dad. Your thumb pressed the green button without thinking much.

“Hey darling” Jax cheerful voice sounded through the speaker, and you smiled instantly. There was a lot of noise in the background, but you heard it go away as Jax moved further to talk to you.

“Hi” you mumbled, and then cleared your voice. “I almost thought you had forgotten about me”

You heard Jax chuckled, and suddenly everything seemed brighter. You were not anymore locked in your room, afraid of how much Clay was going to drink that night, and if the glass of water you had to left in his room could avoid you another beating. Instead, you were surrounded by the usual happiness that came with Jax, that got you a warm feeling in the bottom of your stomach.

“Sorry about that, Y/N. I’ve been busy with the club and that shit” he answered, and you almost could see the smirk. “I’m never too busy for you, though. That was actually why I was calling you”

“Oh”

The happiness quickly disappeared, and your hand moved on its own, touching the bruise on your eye lightly. You had been successful in avoiding him for a week; after all, he had been busy too, but you knew it couldn’t go on forever. If Jax knew only half of the things that your father did, you were sure he would ran him over with a bike.

So, yeah, you didn’t like where the conversation with your boyfriend was going.

“What? Tired of my hot ass already?” he joked, and you noticed it was almost quiet on the other side.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t see any hot ass around”

“I see how this is going, I see. I might go back to Opie after all”

For almost two hours, you managed to be happy again. Jax seemed to have a sixth sense about your distress, and picked up easily that you enjoyed more than usual talking to him. So, after he reassured you multiple times that he didn’t mind ditching the party on Friday’s night, he went back to his room and talked to you laying on his bed.

Time passed and you didn’t really noticed it, too busy letting the sleep almost crash you. Jax and you joked, laughed and remembered things, a week without knowing about each other long forgotten.

You had known Jax since you were children and your parents decided to date. Once you were over the phase of pulling pranks and hating each other, you started the relationship you had managed to keep for more than five years.

“I hate telling you this, but my eyes are dropping and I’m going to fall asleep any second” you said, your voice quiet. You were used to sleeping next to him, but since your father incident you had decided to go back to your home, or what used to be.

“That’s fine, you don’t have to hung up” Jax said, and you heard the bed covers shuffling on the other side. “I like hearing your breathing, it helps me go to sleep”

“That’s so romantic” you chuckled, closing your eyes. “But phone’s bills are something real, Jax.”

“I can’t wait to have you back here” he groaned, and your heart clenched. “Really, Y/N, you need to come back here. I know, he’s your father and all that. But I miss you. A lot”

“I miss you too, baby” you pouted, even though he couldn’t see you. “I just-My dad is not able to take care of himself right now… I’m the only thing he has left.”

“I know”

Over the last months where you had been living with Clay, there was an oncoming argument about it, and both of you knew it. You had tried it to keep it as bay as long as you could, but you knew Jax wasn’t going to give up. There were a few seconds of silence until he talked again.

“You’ll need to pay me back for all this lost time” Jax teased. “What about lunch tomorrow? Bobby and Tig are begging me to see you, and I’m quite afraid my mother will kidnap you.”

“How can I say no then” you laughed, before yawning. “Night baby, I love you.”

“Love you too darling” he didn’t cut the line off immediately, but waited until you were almost sleep. “A lot”

Clumsily, you dropped the phone on your nightstand and drifted to sleep. Not remembering the pill, the glass of water and the problems that that decision was going to bring you next morning.

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“Is-Is that a black eye?”

Jax’s voice startled you as you walked inside the club, gripping a trait of homemade cookies with both of your hands. You had already greeted Gemma and Chibs, and they had put a smile on your face; despite the huge cover up in your face, they had only cheered for the cookies, not noticing anything. It had put you in a good mood, yeah, and it had made you forget the argument with Clay that morning and those awful words.

But it didn’t last long.

Looking up, you nearly flinched back when Jax ran towards you with an impressive speed, his body almost crashing yours. He took the cookies and placed them in the nearest table. His warm hand cupped your jaw and tilted your face up, so you could meet his worried blue eyes. Behind all of that concern, there was the murderous rage that was going to pop any second.

More than ten different excuses ran through your head while you opened and closed your mouth, Jax demanding an answer with a faint movement of his head.

“It’s nothing” you answered, struggling to keep your voice steady. “I was-I was m-messing with some things at the storage room, and some boxes fell on me”

Jax’s eyes narrowed, and anyone could see that the lie hadn’t ran past him. He studied your face with a soft intensity, far from the anger he was feeling. His thumb moved up and down your cheek, and you had to keep your lip from trembling.

“I was there yesterday, and everything was in its place” he casually said, his grip tightened slightly. “Anything you need to tell me?”

Instead of coming up with another lie, you shrugged, gaze going to the floor. Jax could read you like an open book, and wouldn’t have any problem in finding out that you didn’t fall off the stairs. Someone entered the club and you swore you heard Tig whistling under his breath, but before you could turn around, Jax had them out with a stern look.

His eyes became softer when he saw your sad face, and he moved one of his hands to your waist. Pulling you closer, he made you rest your head on his chest, so that the bruise was visible. It took Jax a long minute, yet by then he had managed to take off all the makeup and observe properly the dark circle.

“I just want to help you, Y/N” he muttered, caressing your hair. “Let me help you”

“I know”

“Then, what is it?” Jace waited for you to answer, but you only closed your eyes. “If the prospect has hit you again without meaning you, it’s okay. I’m not gonna kick him out, just a few-“

“No!” your head snapped up, eyes wide in panic at the thought of poor Halfsack being beaten up again because of a silly mistake. “It’s not him! I swear, I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

At least, that was not a lie. In the first year of being a prospect, the boy had had the bad luck of knocking you unconscious with a door opened with too much force, and Jax had screamed at him until he had a panic attack. You almost smiled at the memory of Halfsack chasing you with a apologies for a month.

“Then what is it, darling?” his voice was serious, as he teared away and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been spending less and less time with us, and you keep cancelling our dates.”

Your insides twisted painfully, and you went cold. There was no way of getting out of that without hurting someone, and the protective barrier that had raised over the truth did its job when the words left your mouth.

“Well, you aren’t around neither” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault that we don’t see each other, you’re always busy! With parties, club’s businesses and all of that!”

The moment hurt flickered through Jax’s eyes was the one where you regretted everything that had been going on. He took a deep breath before answering. If you had been any other person, he would have kicked you out and forgot about you. If he hadn’t been by your side for so long, he would have turned on his heels and walked out on you. But you were his Y/N, and worry overpowered anger.

“Darling” he whispered as your face heated up. “I want to help you. But, you’ve gotta let me in. Please, Y/N. I just want to help you.”

And for a second, you doubted. You’ve always counted on Jax for everything. First period, he was the thirteen year’s old kid who ran to the store with nervous legs while you waited in the bathroom. First time using make up, he let you use his face to practice. And you wanted to tell him desperately, you wanted him to hug you and tell you that everything is okay.

“I-I…”

But then, you saw his face. You saw Clay’s face as he was framed, as he came back home and cried in your arms for the whole night. It wasn’t his fault that the world had been so cruel to him, and you also wanted, needed, to believe that. After all, he was your father, and you didn’t know what you would do without him.

“I….’m fine” you spitted out rushed, forcing yourself to step backwards. You watched as Jax ran a hand down his face, exhaling loudly.

Before he could say anything else, people started coming into the club, the loud laughs and noises crushing your peace. You were wrapped in Bobby’s arms and heard someone already trying to take one of your cookies.

For the next five hours, you didn’t talk to Jax.

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The dim light of the night lamp created weird shadows in Jax’s closet. You were laying on his bed, in the room that he still had in the club. His chest moved under your clammy hands, silence surrounding you.

Everyone had left a while ago, and you had tried to keep yourself busy until then. Doing unnecessary things, cleaning already neat dishes, talking to Gemma about the new shop. Jax had picked up easily your behaviour, noticing that you were doing everything in your power to stay there for a little longer. So, after five hours of not talking, he mumbled if you wanted to spend the night with him there.

Leaving would probably meant another beating, because it was late and you hadn’t told your father you would be out for so long. Staying would lead to the conversation you had wanted to avoid for the whole day. With a little hesitation, you had gripped his hand and had let him guide you to his room.

Once in his clothes and tucked in bed, you didn’t know if you were ready for it. You had changed in front of him; so he had seen the yellow marks on your ribs, the purple circles on your wrists and the fingers printed on your arm. Jax had seen it all, but only clenched his jaw and hugged you closer, waiting for you to talk.

“I’m not fine” you whispered, almost thirty minutes after going to bed. “And I’m sorry”

“It’s okay” Jax kissed the top of your head. “It’s okay”

“He doesn’t mean to do it” you shivered , ducking down and sniffing. You cursed when tears filled your eyes. However, his hand was there to stop them before they fell onto his chest. “I know he doesn’t mean to. Please, Jax, he doesn’t mean to.”

“Who, Y/N?” his voice was dark, and you could feel his body shaking along with his hand clenching and unclenching. “Who doesn’t mean to hurt you?”

“He doesn’t mean to” you repeated, wanting to print those words in your mind. “I-I just, I make him… angry, and he loses control. But he doesn’t mean to.”

By then, Jax was sure he was going to break one tooth. He didn’t dare to look anywhere apart from the ceiling, where a small crack was beginning to show. It reminded him of the nights were you two would cuddle together as kids, whispering jokes until Gemma scolded you for being so loud. It only made him angrier.

“And what does he do?” he asked. He didn’t want to hear it, he just wanted to have a name and to start his bike, a baseball on his hand. Imagining the walls drenched with that fuckers blood made him regain the patience to talk to you.

“He… he gets a little rough sometimes”

“He hits you”

“No!”

You turned around and looked up when Jax said those words, horrified by its meaning. In your eyes, Clay didn’t hit you, just pushed you around and sometimes shoved you a little too hard. You were ready to say so when you noticed the tears in Jax’s cheeks. They were falling freely down, and just then you understood how difficult was it being for him. He didn’t look at you, too afraid to throw all the rage.

It was silent, until he finally looked down and whispered your name. You broke.

You broke, and you told him how Clay pushed you to the floor when he walked past you in the mornings. How he made you feel worthless every day, and how the names he called you hurt you. You sobbed to him about all those times when he threatened to kill you if you told Jax or any of the guys. And, besides all of that, you begged him to understand that Clay didn’t mean to hit you.

Breathing heavily when you finished, you leaned farther into Jax’s arms and hid your face on his neck, the tears not stopping. One shaky hand came up and covered your bruised cheeks, and with that he assured you it would be okay.

“How long has it been going on?” he asked finally, his voice breaking. During your explanation, he had tried to be strong, but he couldn’t help the heavy heart and tearful eyes.

“I don’t know” you whispered. Trying to remember a time where Clay didn’t hit you became more difficult, and you gasped when you realised it was nearly impossible. “I don’t-I really don’t know, Jax.”

“Darling” Jax said, agony on his words.

He squeezed his eyes and fisted the hand that wasn’t holding you, imagining that his neck was between his fingers. When the truth about Donna had been out, Jax had wanted to kill Clay. The man had been giving him reasons nonstop to be killed, but he had managed to stop himself for you. After hearing your words, he would wish Jax would have killed him.

“It’s stopping now” he said, and kissed your head. “I promise, it’s-it’s stopping now. He’s not looking at you ever again, Y/N. I’ve got you”

“I’m sorry” you said, throat dry and eyes aching.

Confusion clouded Jax’s eyes, his grip tightening for a split of second before he let go.

“Why?”

You looked away, keeping your gaze on the wall next to you. Sorry, for not telling him sooner and making him worry. Sorry, for getting him in that situation, where he was going to have to tell the club and his mother. Sorry, because you wished life could be different for you, and for him.

No words left your mouth, and Jax shifter impossibly closer. You didn’t hear what he said next, only the soft tone he used and the caring hand that ran through your hair. He touched two or three bumps that your father had gave you when he had pushed you against the wall, and he almost got out of bed. Too caught up in steady rise of exhaustion and safety, your mind drifted off and your brain muffled the noise and your limbs fell heavy.

For the first time in who knew how long, you slept without fearing what was awaiting for you in the morning. For Jax, it probably was a lot of problems with other clubs that still made deals with Clay. For your father, the worst of the fates, since the blonde didn’t sleep a beat thinking about how he was going to make him pay.

For you, just a new beginning where you were going to be finally happy. And safe.

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